Anne, quivering with excitement, peered out through the night; nothing but darkness. Below, lined along the rails, she caught dull outlines of the white caps of the seamen, all as eager to defeat the battleships as their officers. She saw the phosphorescent gleam from a shattered wave. But she heard nothing, not even the swish of water.
Johnson approached diffidently, and leaned over the rail at their side, straining his eyes into the night.
"The chances of making a successful attack," he said, "are best if we approach from almost ahead, a little on the bow. Then we are lessening the distance between us at the sum of the speeds of the flotilla and the battleships. We 'll hit up about twenty-five knots when we see them. Of—"
A low incisive voice sounded forward, a blotch of a hand and arm pointing. There was a movement on the bridge as a dark object came close. It was the Jefferson. A dull figure leaned over her bridge with a megaphone.
"We 've blown out some boiler tubes and scalded a couple of men, D'Estang. Go in ahead."
"All right," Jack's voice was muffled.
Again came the voice of the lookout and the arm pointed ahead.
"Oh!" Anne pinched Sara's arm. "I see them. See those great black shadows over there?" She stepped forward. "Shall I tell them?"
But Armitage had seen. He turned to the yeoman.
"Full speed, ahead!"