“Now, if they’ll only get us in their lee, they may get us out of this yet,” exclaimed Ned.
“And that’s what they are going to do,” cried Herc jubilantly, as the black form of the destroyer drew closer and closer. Her propellers were backing her slowly. Her commanding officer was allowing the wind to drift her down toward the submerged boat.
In this way it was hoped to form what sailors call a lee. That is, the big form of the destroyer would be interposed between the wind and the boat. In the comparative calm thus formed on her lee side, it was hoped that it would prove feasible to get the castaways on board.
But those minutes of waiting were among the most trying any of them had ever experienced. Time and again a monster wave would engulf the half-sunk boat, submerging the clinging crew altogether.
At last, just as Ned’s strength seemed to be giving out, he saw above him the black, glistening outline of the destroyer.
From somewhere far above him, as it seemed, a line came whistling through the air. Exerting his remaining strength, he caught it and made fast. He heard shouted commands above him and saw lights flitting hither and thither.
All at once both boat and destroyer seemed to be picked up together and hurled upward to the sky in a dizzy ascent. The next instant the downward drop started. Ned felt his senses leaving him. In the midst of a terrific crash, which he knew was the splintering of the helpless boat against the Beale’s steel sides, his senses went out.