“Of course not, Coxswain!” replied Don with a quiet laugh. “This isn’t a sea burial. It’s just a job Lieutenant Pennington and I have to do. You’ll probably be in more danger aboard the Gatoon than we will be here. Steady, now! We’re going over the bow.”
“Aye-aye, sir!” answered the petty officer, with a catch in his voice. “And here’s wishin’ you and the Lieutenant good luck!”
The lifeboat pitched and swung off as two heavy splashes sounded over her bow.
“Good luck to you, Coxs’n!” sputtered Red Pennington from the water. “Sheer off now and head for the ship! They’re showing a signal light to give you your bearings.”
When the last faint splash of oars faded out, Don Winslow spoke.
“Feel lonesome, Red?”
A gasping breath from the darkness gave evidence of Red’s position, even before he answered.
“G-gee, Don!” he stuttered. “I wondered for a minute if you’d drifted out of hearing. Sound off again, Skipper, so I can paddle closer! I’d certainly hate to float around here in the darkness and know I was all alone.... Say, where are you, anyhow?”
“Here!” answered Don, shortly.
“Huh? Where? I thought you were over there!” burbled Red Pennington between frantic splashings. “Are you swimmin’ circles around me, Skipper, or is it the darkness? Dawggone....”