“Mr Hume, will you help Miss Anstrade to the Swift; pass the word to the men to get on board, and have them stationed at the guns.”
In a few minutes Captain Pardee was the only man on board the Irene, with the exception of the stokers, who were busily preparing the fires.
To those in the Swift who could see nothing there followed a long and anxious state of suspense, broken at last by the low voice of the Captain speaking from above.
“Mr Hume, stand by to slip the fastenings.”
They held their breath, listening, and to them came the regular beat of engines.
Louder and louder grew the noise, but they could see nothing of the danger, and its imminence seemed to them the nearer. There was a movement in the air, the pulsation of the distant screw affected them so that they believed the Swift itself was throbbing, and presently the Irene leant over towards them gently, and as gently rolled away.
“’Tis the wave from her wake,” muttered the Quartermaster.
The sound of the engines gradually lessened.
The Captain’s figure appeared above. “She has passed,” he said.
There was a rush for the tall sides of the Irene, and presently everyone was staring forward at a green light fast diminishing in the dark, now at its blackest before the dawn.