"I risk that," replied the reporter imperturbably. "I'll lash myself on."
"Have the goodness to go," said Whittinghame with a faint show of annoyance.
The man shook his head. He had the appearance of being a resolute sort of individual.
Without another word Whittinghame walked to the after motor-room and gave orders for the propellers to be started easy ahead. Then he went outside, fully expecting to find the man gone.
At the first sign of movement the dense pack of boats had given back, but the pressman still stuck to his precarious post.
"There's pluck for you," commented the skipper. "That's the sort of man we could very well do with. But I'm not going to be balked. Just wait here for a few minutes, Dacres, and watch developments. Telephone to me when he's gone, and then take care to get inside and close the sliding panel as sharp as you can."
"He's lashed himself on, by Jove!" said Dacres.
"It will be a case of suicide if he's there when we gather speed," rejoined Whittinghame. "The sharp edge of the plane will cut through that lashing as if it were a piece of worsted."
With that the Captain went aft, leaving Dacres on the platform to report the course of events.
In response to an order the after hawsers were cast off, while the crew stood by ready to let go the for'ard springs that alone held the "Meteor" head to wind.