“A verra clever remark,� intonated MacKeenon. “Twa thieves are far worse than one.�
Fay followed the girl to the rail where the bo’swain’s ladder was lashed. He assisted her to climb down until he was forced to let go her hands. Her upturned face was close to his as he leaned over the rail. Her eyes were loyal and smouldering with rage toward MacKeenon. Her cheeks flushed through the
olive-hue of her skin. Her lips were set and almost hard. She flashed a sudden smile, and, turning her head, glanced downward to where the seamen of the destroyer had maneuvered the small-boat. They grappled the ladder with a boat-hook. She waited and sprang outward. She landed in the stern and grasped the gunwale. She stared upward with concern as Fay descended the swaying ladder.
He reached her side and waited. MacKeenon and the lieutenant-commander came down the ladder and leaped for the bow of the boat. It was shoved away from the rusty sheer of the giant ship. A bell clanged as the captain hurried forward along the upper rail. The screw thrashed the waves. The ship surged on. Its stern showed with gold letters marking the name:
“Drammen of Stavanger.�
It was gone in a swelter of foam and funnel smoke. The fog closed about the last of the deck lights. The sea tossed the small-boat like a cork in a whirlpool.
“Steady her!� said the lieutenant-commander, smartly. “Hold steady! Out boat-hook! Catch that chain!�
The destroyer glided through the fog like a lean serpent. A white bone was at its prow. A bell jingled. An order rolled over the sea. The three screws reversed as the seaman reached upward and caught a dangling anchor chain. The boat was drawn close to the flush-deck. It was worked aft until a low ladder was reached.
“After you!� said MacKeenon through cupped hands as he raised himself in the bow and turned
toward Saidee Isaacs and Fay. “Climb aboard! Ye’ll be verra welcome!�