Hardly knowing what he did, Orme laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “It will be all right, dear,” he whispered.
If the word embarrassed her, the darkness covered her confusion.
Porter had started the motor, setting it at a low speed, and now he was steering the boat in a circle to gain distance for the charge.
“I’ve lost the other boat,” exclaimed Orme, peering into the darkness.
“She’s off there,” said Porter. “You can’t see her, but I know the direction.”
He swung the launch around and headed straight through the night.
“Hold on tight,” Orme cautioned the girl, and, coiling his lasso, he went to the bow.
The launch moved steadily forward. Orme, straining his eyes in the endeavor to distinguish the other boat, saw it at last. It lay a few points to starboard, and Porter altered the course of the launch accordingly.
“Make for the stern,” called Orme, “and cripple her propeller, if you can.”
Another slight change in the course showed that Porter understood.