Dan translated the message to his superior officer. The lad was glad that it was not he who was tugging at the oars, for the perspiration was dripping from the face of the oarsman by this time.
As each boat reached the buoy where it was to locate its mine, the men would toss their oars as a signal that they were ready. Some time was required for all the boats to get in their proper places.
In the meantime Dan Davis was standing up in the wherry with his flag ready for signaling. At last the oars in each boat of the fleet were tossed, which means held upright.
“Ready,” wig-wagged the Battleship Boy.
He held his flag high above his head with one hand—the injured one—the other hand holding the spy glass to his eye watching the signal halyards of the battleship.
A flag fluttered to the breeze on the ship. Instantly Dan dipped his own signal flag.
A splash from a cutter, followed by a series of splashes from the other boats of the little fleet, told him that the mines were going overboard.
The second leg of the contest against time was on. Sam Hickey sat in the whaleboat irritated because he had had little or nothing to do. Had he but known it, however, there was plenty of opportunity ahead of him to enable the lad to show the stuff he was made of.
CHAPTER XXI—BREAKING THE RECORD
“There goes the last of them,” shouted the officer in Dan’s boat.