As Bob turned, an evil, triumphant light flashed in the don’s eyes. Bob could not see it, and it escaped Clackett.
In the mirror top of the periscope table, clear and distinct, was reflected a ship’s boat, a yawl, heaving helplessly on the waves. The boat was not over a hundred feet from the submarine, and the periscope showed it with startling fidelity to detail.
Aboard the yawl were five persons—four men and a boy. They seemed to be in difficult straits, for the men were standing erect and waving their hats frantically.
“They’ve been shipwrecked, Bob,” said Gaines, “and they’ve lost their oars.”
One of the men was a burly individual, wearing an oil-skin coat and a sou’wester. All the others were roughly dressed, the boy wearing a pea-jacket and a stocking cap pulled well down over his face.
“There’s a sailing craft hull down, off to port,” said Bob. “It’s a wonder that boat didn’t pick those fellows up. But that’s unimportant. We’ll lay them aboard and take them off. Clackett!”
“Here, Bob!” answered Clackett.
“Take two coils of rope and go aloft.” Bob turned to Gaines. “Get as close to the boat as you can, Gaines,” he added.
Clackett rushed up the conning-tower ladder, and followed Speake out onto the curving plates of the deck. Bob went after the two men to direct operations from the conning tower.
Those in the boat—with the exception of the boy—appeared in the last stages of exhaustion. On seeing that their wild signals were to be answered, they dropped sprawling over the thwarts. The boy still stood erect and made gestures—stealthy movements with one hand which puzzled Bob.