Peering through the almost closed hatch Devoran and Hythe saw Polglaze slide down the boat's hull, grasping what looked like a bundle of clothing in his arms.
"Keep a strain on the life-line," ordered the chief officer. "Smartly now--haul away."
Another sea flooded the deck and swirled past the base of the conning-tower. The strain on Polglaze's life-line was enormous, but fortunately the rope was a sound one. As the smother of foam subsided Polglaze's face appeared at the almost closed hatchway.
"Here you are, sir," he exclaimed breathlessly. Hythe and the first officer instantly opened the lid, and the bundle--the body of a boy about ten years of age--was thrust into their arms. Ere another wave hurled itself upon the rescuer Polglaze was safe within the conning-tower.
And now Lancarrow's burly form appeared sitting astride the fishing-craft's bulwarks. He evidently had a weightier burden, for in spite of his efforts the powerful Cornishman could not at first raise it clear of the sides. Thrice he essayed the task and the third time was successful. His burden was the padrone or master of the wrecked craft.
Just then a formidable sea, higher than the rest, came hissing and foaming down upon the submarine. Lancarrow with his back turned to it was unaware of the danger, but both Hythe and Devoran saw it and shouted a warning. Their voices were drowned in the howling and shrieking of the gale.
With a smother of hissing foam the wave burst. Lancarrow, still grasping his burden, was hurled from the bulwarks and thrown upon the "Aphrodite's" deck. The same wave sent the fishing-boat back into the depths, thus depriving Lancarrow of the slight shelter hitherto afforded by the hull, and hurled him across the slippery deck. Fortunately he was not stunned by the impact and did not relinquish his hold of the man he had rescued, while the life-line saved both from being washed overboard.
Realizing the danger Hythe fastened round his own waist the rope that Polglaze had cast off, and bidding Kenwyn and Devoran to open the hatch, he dashed to the aid of the rescuer and rescued.
Another wave flung him back just as he was on the point of gripping Lancarrow round the chest. The rush of water swept all three against the conning-tower. The slack of the life-lines were hauled in, and the receding water left them close to the hatchway.
"I've got him," spluttered the sub, as he laid hold of the unconscious Italian. "You look after yourself, Lancarrow."