“Just as you say, matey. You’ve got the grit. I ought not to have yanked you down that way, but I didn’t know.”
“That’s all right,” smiled Dan.
“Take up mines,” blew the bugle.
“Cast off,” commanded the coxswains of the various boats, whereupon all the small boats seemed to leap clear of the ship.
Dan, in his small wherry, was lagging behind as usual. In his case the boat had only one oarsman, while the other boats had several, but the single oarsman did very well. The tide was running in, which helped them all more or less.
The boy was holding his wrist, the pain growing more and more severe as the moments passed. By this time the wrist had begun to swell until the bandage about it fairly cut into the flesh.
“I hope I shall be able to stand it until I get back,” he muttered. “I guess I’ll have to, unless I jump overboard.”
Leaning over the side he trailed the hand in the cool water, which seemed to relieve the pain a little.
Reaching the mine field, the boats quickly took their various stations, and the men, resting on their oars, awaited the command, “Take up mines.”
The command came a few minutes later.