Like an arrow from a bow the powerful box of machinery leapt forward. The result was disastrous as far as Stickleton was concerned. Unprepared to counteract the sudden momentum, he was literally "left", for, subsiding upon the short after-deck, he rolled backwards over the transom and fell into the boiling wake of the rapidly-moving motor-boat.
Fortunately he could swim well, and was quickly hauled over the destroyer's side, a dripping but still cheerful object.
Several of the Calder's crew laughed outright. Even Crosthwaite and Sefton had to smile. The sopping R.N.R. officer was quick to enter into the joke against himself.
"Hope I won't get reprimanded for leaving my ship without permission," he remarked facetiously.
"You haven't asked permission to board mine," Crosthwaite reminded him. "It's the custom of the service, you know."
Meanwhile attention was being transferred from the dripping officer to the craft of which he ought to be in command. Evidently her crew were unaware of what had occurred. The bowman was coiling down a rope, two of the deck hands were engaged in securing the fore-peak hatchway, while the rest were down below. The patrol-boat was tearing along at 38 knots, and, owing to the "torque" of the propellers, was describing a vast circle to port.
It was the cabin-boy who first made the discovery that the little craft was without a guiding hand at the wheel. He was down below tidying up the sub's cabin, when he found an automatic cigarette-lighter that Stickleton had mislaid. Anxious to get into his superior officer's good books, for the youngster was the bane of Stickleton's existence on board, the boy ascended the short ladder leading to the cockpit. To his surprise he found no helmsman.
Guessing that something was amiss, he hailed the bowman. The latter, scrambling aft, steadied the vessel on her helm, at the same time ordering the motors to be eased down. He was convinced that Stickleton had been jerked overboard and was swimming for dear life a couple of miles astern.
By this time the Calder bore almost due west, at a distance of six sea miles, for the patrol-boat had described a complete semicircle. For some time the boat searched in vain for her missing skipper, until the coxswain suggested returning to Yarmouth to report the casualty.
"Better get back to the destroyer, George," counselled another of the crew. "Maybe they've got our skipper. Anyway, there'll be no harm done."