Under the searching brilliance Adrian and Crow put Messenger up in the wind, and she lay-to--wet, ragged, battered, shaken, most disreputable, with her drenched mainsail, her flapping storm-jib no bigger than a towel, while the poor little dinghy reeled alongside drunkenly, the water washing over her floor boards.
Before her crew had recovered from this visitation a splendid boat, as long as Messenger, if not longer, swept up alongside with a precision that never even touched the fenders of the yawl, which Adrian had rushed to throw out. He said to his mother afterwards, in a perfect passion of admiration, "The bo'sun just hooked on--no fuss--no bother--and Messenger jumping like a mad-horse."
The boy in charge was perhaps a year older than Christobel. His fair face was beaming with satisfaction. He was enjoying himself to the full! With engaging courtesy he put the two girls in the stern sheets and held a short parley with Adrian, who refused to leave the yawl.
"You see, sir, I'm responsible--she's Sir Marmaduke Shard's Messenger, and he----"
"Your brother sent me to fetch you off, and two of our men will take over the yawl," explained the boy.
"My brother!"
"Mr. Romilly, yes. We are destroyer Spite, and the men will see the yawl safe into Bell Bay; they are instructed."
Orders flew, while Christobel gasped out "Malcolm" in a choked voice as Adrian came down beside her.
"There's any amount of grub on board," said Adrian hurriedly, "cocoa and coffee. Please tell your men to----"
"Thanks very much, sir; they'll enjoy themselves." Mr. Rodney Vane passed on the information, and the big galley swept away, along the ladder of light, towards the waiting destroyer.