Bringing his telescope to bear upon the Awarua, he could see quite clearly the life-boat hanging by the bow tackle only. As he looked he was a distant witness of Sergeant Carr's leap into the sea.
Instinctively he grasped the situation and took prompt measures. At his orders a signalman on the fore bridge set the arms of the semaphore at "Attention". When the transport acknowledged the preparatory signal the semaphore began to spell out its message:
"Carry on; we'll pick up your man."
"Away sea-boat's crew," was the next order, and quickly the falls were manned, and the boat, containing her full complement, lowered until the keel was within a few feet of the water. Meanwhile the cruiser's engines had been reversed until her speed diminished five knots.
"Lower away!" was the next order.
With a resounding "smack" the boat "landed" on the crest of a wave. Dexterously the patent releasing-gear was operated, and, carried onward with the momentum imparted by the still-moving cruiser, the sea-boat shot away from the side of her parent.
The order, "Give way, lads, for all you're worth!" given by the midshipman in charge, was somewhat unnecessary. At the prospect of saving life every man was pulling his hardest. The sharp bows of the boat literally cleft the water.
"Way 'nough. In bow," ordered the midshipman, a youth of sixteen or seventeen with the assurance of a successful barrister.
As neatly as if he were bringing a picket-boat alongside the flagship under the super-critical eye of the admiral, the midshipman steered the boat close to the wellnigh exhausted men. Ready hands lifted Malcolm and Macready into the stern-sheets, and within seven minutes of the first order for the sea-boat to be manned, the two New Zealanders were standing upon the quarter-deck of H.M.S. Gosport.