Rayburn was beginning to think that in the darkness he had overtaken the barge without sighting her, when he heard a faint shout, just audible above the noise of the motor. There was no mistaking that shout: it was one of the Patrol cries of the Milford Sea Scouts.
A hundred yards or so on the Olivette's port bow was the barge, drifting broadside on to the current. Not so very far down-stream were three masthead lights, denoting that vessels were at anchor. Unless the derelict were promptly secured and towed out of the fairway there seemed no way of preventing the barge from crashing disastrously across the hawse of at least one of the three vessels.
"Stop!" ordered Phil, putting the helm over gently. "Touch astern."
In spite of his efforts the Olivette bumped heavily against the side of the barge. In a trice Hemming jumped and gained the Olivette's deck but not to stay. He too realized the danger of the heavily laden barge drifting upon the anchored ships. Picking up the bow-warp and taking a turn round the bitts, he jumped upon the deck of the barge and made the end of the warp secure to a bollard.
"Come on, you fellows," he shouted. "Bear a hand."
"Can't," replied Rayburn. "There are only two of us on board. Roche is at the motor and I at the wheel."
Making his way aft, Flemming took another warp on board, so that the Olivette was secured alongside the derelict.
"All fast!" he shouted as he regained the Olivette.
"Easy ahead!" ordered Phil. The initial excitement over, he was now as cool as the proverbial cucumber.
Very gently Roche let the clutch in, throttling well down so that the strain on the two hawsers would be taken up gradually and evenly. A sudden jerk might result in both ropes carrying away, in which case the barge would be foul of the anchored vessels before she could be again secured.