The watchers on the after-bridge were peering into the night with binoculars and glasses. The A.P. extended an arm and forefinger: "There's the life-buoy—there! ... Now—there! D'you see it? You can just see the flare when it lifts on a wave.... Ah! That's better!"
The dazzling white beam from a search-light on the fore-bridge leaped suddenly into the night. "Now we can see the cutter—" the beam wavered a moment and finally steadied. "Yes, there they are.... I say, there's a devil of a sea running."
"Ripping sea-boats our Service cutters are," said another, staring through his glasses. "They'll live in almost anything; but this isn't a dangerous sea. The skipper 'll turn in a minute and make a lee for them."
"Think old Shortie reached the buoy?"
"Probably swimming about looking for the other fellow, if I know anything of him; who did he go in after?"
"One of the duty sub.—they were securing the anchor or something forward, and the bowline slipped——"
"By gad! He's got him! There's the buoy—yes, two of them. Good old Shortie.... My God! Good old Shortie!" The speaker executed a sort of war-dance and trod on the Paymaster's toes.
"When you've quite finished, Snatcher.... By the way, what about hot-water bottles—blankets—stimulants.... First aid: come along! 'Assure the patient in a loud voice that he is safe.' ... 'Aspect cheerful but subdued.' ... I learned the whole rigmarole once!"
From the fore upper bridge the Captain was handling his ship like a picket-boat.
"'Midships—steady! Stop both!" He raised his mouth from the voice-pipe to the helmsman, and nodded to the Officer of the Watch. "She'll do now.... The wind 'll take her down."