CHAPTER XXI.
FRESH DANGER.
“Man overboard!”
The cry that never fails to thrill the heart of every sailor rang out on the deck of the submarine, as old Silas rightly interpreted the uproar on the battleship. Far above them boats were swung out and crews rushed into them. From the stern of the big fighting ship life belts and lines were tossed.
But long before any of the man-o’-war’s boats could touch the water, the submarine was headed about and rushed at full speed toward a tiny black object bobbing on the water far astern of the cumbrous battleship.
That object, looking no bigger than a shoe button, was a man fighting for his life in the wake of the ship from which he had been lost. Mr. Dancer, in the steering section of the White Shark, had seen the accident reflected in the periscope. His mind was made up in an instant. Using the emergency appliances he had for handling the engines, he had brought the White Shark around in incredibly short time and had headed for the drowning man.
Up on deck Jack and Tom had their shoes and their coats off, ready to leap after the castaway if necessary. Mr. Chadwick had seized a life-saving buoy from its hook just inside the hatch and stood ready to hurl it. As for old Silas, he shouted:
“Hold on, mate! We’re comin’! Hold on!”
The sea was not in itself rough, but in the wake of the speeding battleship it was decidedly so. The White Shark rolled and plunged like an empty bottle as, at express speed, she cut through the boiling mass of foam and angry, choppy waves.
“He’s still afloat!” cried Tom, as the White Shark rose on the top of a wave and they saw the head of the swimmer they were going to save, if human aid could do it.
“And making a brave fight for his life, too,” cried Jack. “Fight on, old fellow, we’re coming.”