With the glass to his eyes Darrin confirmed this report.
“That was unusual luck,” he said, coolly.
“Unusual shooting, I’d say, sir,” voiced the ensign.
“It’s over, anyway, with that Hun pirate,” declared Darrin. He ordered the course changed as soon as Dan left for his own ship. Then he went to the radio room to dictate a message to American naval headquarters at the home port. That message told of the rescue of all but a score of the crew and passengers from the sunken “Griswold,” and also of the now crowded condition of both destroyers.
Within fifteen minutes the orders from shore arrived, in this form:
“Come in with rescued passengers and crew. Commanding officers of ‘Grigsby’ and ‘Reed’ directed report for new orders.”
If Dave was anxious to have Belle safe on shore, the jackies on the two craft were hardly less eager to put all the civilians ashore as soon as possible, that the ships’ crews might once more have elbow room.
It was not until evening that port was made. On the trip Dave Darrin barely left the bridge, but remained on duty hour after hour, refusing to close his eyes. He would take no chances whatever with this most precious cargo of men and women.
By the time that the destroyer had reached moorings, Belle was able to go up on deck, on Dave’s arm. He took her ashore at once, placed her in a hotel, and arranged for medical attendance to be summoned if needed. And Runkle, with shore leave for the night, insisted on remaining in the hotel, where he could be called at any instant when Mrs. Darrin might need anything that he could do for her.
Though the flag lieutenant was present at the interview which followed at naval headquarters, it was the admiral himself who received Dave and Dan.