His ready mind grasped the situation. Could he but effect a communication with the waterlogged craft a double purpose might be served.
Down swept the canoe. As her quarter slipped past the boat Denbigh leant over the side. With one hand he staved off the sharp stem, the metal-bound edge of which would have crushed the side of the canoe like an egg-shell. With the other he grasped the painter, which was trailing from the bow ring-bolt.
"Stand by and take a turn!" he shouted to the mate, throwing him the slack of the rope.
Promptly Armstrong, who was up for'ard, made the running part of the painter fast to the rope of the sea-anchor. With a jerk the canoe brought up fifty feet to leeward of the waterlogged boat.
Here, sheltered by the latter, and with her drift apparently reduced, the canoe was in relatively smooth water. The unfortunate seaman, rallying his remaining energies, struck out. Almost exhausted, he was on the point of sinking when Denbigh seized him by the hair.
It was a difficult matter to get the man into the canoe. He was a great hulking fellow. The safety of the three officers was gravely endangered, but proceeding with the utmost caution they hoisted him over the side.
"Do you recognize him?" asked Denbigh.
"Eh?" exclaimed his chum. "No; do you?"
"Rather," replied the sub. "He's one of the Pelikan's mob, and yonder craft is the whaler I saw buried on Latham Island. I'm afraid they haven't had much of a run for their money. But what's one man's meat is another man's poison. The whaler may prove a godsend."
"She will," rejoined Armstrong. "See, she acts as a perfect breakwater. We must be almost stationary, owing to her drag in the water."