"Bronson's knocked out."
Leaving Howard to supervise the return of the advance line to their original positions, Gregory instructed the sailors to launch a dory over the rail of the Pelican and was rowed away in the direction of the Richard.
Hawkins had but little to tell. The Richard had been plying about according to orders, to report any break in the wedge. As she skirted the right end close to the Snipe, some one had thrown a bottle from the nearest enemy craft. It had struck Bronson in the head. The Richard had drifted backward. Hawkins had thrown out an anchor. That was all. Gregory examined Bronson while Hawkins was speaking. The man was not badly injured. But his loss would be a serious one. Without the speed-boat, Gregory would be greatly handicapped. He set his jaw grimly in the darkness. He could not afford to tie up the Richard. He would run her himself. Directing Hawkins to pull the anchor, he slid into Bronson's seat and focused the rays of his flash-light on the speed-boat's starting mechanism.
"Are you going to try to run her?" Hawkins inquired as he tugged at the hook.
"I am going to run her. Bronson showed me how. It's taking some chance of course. But not so much as tying her up. We've got to have the Richard, Bill. That's all there is to it."
Gregory started the motor and, proceeding at quarter-speed, set off to take Bronson to the Curlew. By so doing, he realized, he could accomplish a dual
purpose, find out about the safety of Dickie Lang and leave the boatman in her care. That, he reflected, would give her a safer though more inactive rôle.
The girl greeted him from the rail of the Curlew. Not a man had been scratched aboard her vessel. Her craft had held the pivot and twisted two of the alien boats until they bumped the reef. A man had been reported injured on the Falcon.
Placing Bronson in the dory, Gregory directed the skiff to be pulled aboard the Curlew. Then he climbed over the rail with Hawkins.