The throb of the engines far below them rose to a steady purr. The "Long Island" plunged ahead, lurching more violently than before. It was an unsafe speed in such a sea, but perhaps there were human lives at stake off there in that wild swirl of water, and if so it was the first duty of an American seaman to go to their rescue, however great the peril to himself and crew might be.
"There she goes again," shouted the lookout up by the searchlight.
"I caught it that time. The vessel lies dead ahead. Hold your course, quartermaster."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Ord'ly, turn out the executive officer. Tell him to order the boat crews and the first and second divisions out. Be quick about it."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Boatswains' whistles trilled faintly from the depths of the battleship; boatswains' mates roared out their commands, piping the men from their sleep, and a few minutes later the superstructure was thronged with half-clad figures. Every man of them was soaked to the skin the instant he reached the deck, but unmindful of this every eye was peering into the black mist ahead, the men anxiously questioning each other as to the cause of their being piped out.
No one seemed to know, but older heads shrewdly suspected that somewhere off ahead was a sister ship in dire distress.
"Boatswain's mate!" again came the warning call of the watch officer.
"Aye, aye, sir."