"You're game? I need not remind you that it is a risky voyage for an open boat."
"I'm quite willing, sir," said Webb resolutely.
"As I thought," added the skipper. "Well, good luck! The weather looks promising, and ten to one you'll get a fair slant of wind directly you're a few miles from shore."
Delighted at the prospect of being afloat once more, yet reluctant to have to leave his comrades in dire peril, Webb hastened to make preparations for his hazardous voyage in the open whaler. He realized the risk—he also realized the tremendous responsibility, for if he failed in the enterprise the rest of the survivors of the Portchester Castle were doomed.
CHAPTER XVII
The Whaler's Voyage
Having selected his crew—a matter of personal difficulty—since no man cared to volunteer to exchange a post of peril for a duty only slightly less hazardous—Sub-lieutenant Webb proceeded to prepare the boat for her voyage.
The whaler was one of the Service type, twenty-seven feet in length. She had two masts, slightly raking aft, and carried "dipping lug" fore and mainsails—a powerful rig, but one that requires smart and careful handling when going about in a strong breeze.
The bos'n—the carpenter warrant officer having been lost in the struggle for the shore—had instructed the carpenter's crew to nail several pieces of planking across the bows, covering the rough deck with canvas from some spare sails. Empty barricoes, of which a number had been cast upon the beach, were lashed to the thwarts, thus affording considerable buoyancy in the event of the boat being capsized. These were the only alterations made in preparing the whaler for her run across to the distant island of Crete.