By about eight-thirty, at which time both ships were still in the trough of the sea, and the Mariner was oscillating like the pendulum of a clock, thin, drizzling rain came to add to their discomfort.
'Damn it all!' growled Wooten between his teeth, 'we must do something drastic. We haven't budged an inch since we started.'
'Please don't go any faster, sir!' protested MacDonald. 'The wire won't stand it. It's on the verge of carrying away as it is.'
'We shall have to chance it, No. 1. We can't spend the whole night messing about here like this.'
Wooten solved the difficulty by going slow astern with the starboard propeller and putting the port engine-room telegraph to 'half-speed ahead,' and gradually increasing the revolutions of the port screw to sixteen knots. This exerted a greater thrust, tending to turn the ship to starboard, and at last, after ten minutes of it, she actually began to move.
'How's she going now?' Wooten inquired five minutes later.
'Comin' round very, very slow, sir,' said Willis. 'She's at south-forty east.'
They persevered. Sometimes the ship swung round a matter of ten degrees or so in the right direction with a rush, only to fall back seven of them a moment later. Sometimes the lubber's line of the compass went back beyond the original starting-point, but generally they managed to gain a degree or two. The Monsoon had been in tow at seven-fifteen, and it was not until three hours later that they finally got her on to the desired course of south-west.
The mere recital of the incident seems commonplace and trivial enough; but to Wooten the period was one of poignant anxiety, for the damaged ship, judging from what could be seen of her in the glare of the searchlight, seemed to be on the verge of capsizing. Her signals said as much, too; and if her bulkheads had burst, and she had turned over, the Mariner, with a wire made fast to her stern, and a gale of wind blowing, and a sea running in which a small, heavily laden boat had very little chance of remaining afloat, would have been able to do little toward saving her crew. They would have attempted it, of course, but all would probably have perished together. Moreover, in the darkness and generally bad conditions which prevailed, there was always the chance that Wooten would have bad luck, and damage, if not lose, his ship. If he did that people would call him a silly fool behind his back, and would say he should have known better than to attempt the impossible, while his career in the service might be marred. If, on the other hand, he succeeded in doing what he set out to do, the powers that be might pat him on the back and call him a good boy, but very possibly would refrain from doing anything of the kind. The standard in the navy is ever a high one, and in time of war incidents of this kind are all in the day's work.
But all's well that ends well, and on this particular occasion they did succeed, and the Mariner, with the Monsoon in tow, steamed slowly off toward the land. The speed they made was roughly three and a quarter knots, perhaps a trifle less; but it was all in the right direction, and by midnight the damaged vessel was under the lee of the shore and in safety. They finally dropped the tow at six o'clock the next morning, when the skipper, in a sudden fit of exuberance, went on faster than he really should have done, and promptly parted the wire. But no harm was done, for by this time they were in calm water, and a light cruiser was in attendance.