Round swung the "Meteor," dropping half a mile to leeward during the operation, but as soon as she made towards the crippled boat the new conditions suited her admirably. Instead of rolling she settled down to a steady undulating motion.
"Pay out the rope," ordered Captain Whittinghame.
The airship was now only two hundred feet above the raging sea. As soon as the whole coil, one hundred and thirteen fathoms in length, was paid out and allowed to trail in the water, she forged ahead immediately over the disabled craft.
Dexterously one of the crew of the latter caught the trailing rope and made it fast round the stump of the foremast. Just then a tremendous broken sea was observed to be bearing down upon the already sluggish vessel.
The three men who formed the crew saw it coming. The master attempted to put the helm down, but the craft had not yet gathered way. A shout of terror, barely audible above the roar of the wind and water, arose from the men; the two who were for'ard deftly fastened themselves to the slack of the rope trailing from the "Meteor." The helmsman, seeing what they were about, promptly abandoned the tiller, ran to the bows, and cast off the tow-rope. Even as he did so the huge wave surged down upon the doomed craft and swept completely over her. She sank like a stone.
"Take a couple of turns round the capstan," shouted Dacres, who saw what had occurred; then thrusting the starting lever hard down he bade one of the crew stand by while he himself went to the guard-rail to direct operations.
Fortunately the master of the lost craft was a man of powerful physique and held on to the rope like grim death. His two companions, being lashed on, were in no actual danger, but could the master retain his hold sufficiently long to enable him to be hauled into safety?
Whittinghame had now ordered the motors to be switched off, and the "Meteor," scudding before the gale, no longer dragged the three men against the hard wind. Foot by foot the three-inch manila came home. It had to be stopped while the first of the rescued men was assisted over the bulging side of the airship, and again when the second was hauled into safety.
Dacres, keenly on the alert, saw that the master's strength was ebbing. Quickly bending a stout rope round his waist and calling to three of the crew to take a turn, he leapt over the guard-rail, slid down the convex slope and grasped the wellnigh exhausted master by his wrists.
Forty seconds later the sub and the man he had risked his life to save were standing almost breathless upon the upper deck of the airship.