“Tell the Prescott we are on the same course and in practically the same position she is. Tell her to swing a point East and I’ll swing a point North. Get that?”
“Aye, aye, sir!” replied the wireless operator.
Scarcely had the instruments begun to crash out their message than there rose a terrified shout:
“Boat ahoy, sir! Right off the port bow!”
“Hard astarboard! Hard astarboard!” bellowed Captain Perkins to his wheelsman, while he sprang to his buttons and frantically signalled for full speed astern.
And even as he spoke, there loomed a towering, fog-magnified mass, seemingly right upon them.
The lookouts on the Prescott had spied the Admiral only a few seconds after the latter’s, and while Captain Perkins was giving his orders, a frenzied ringing of bells proved that her skipper was also doing his utmost to avert the collision which meant the foundering of both boats, because they were loaded, his vessel being older and not equipped with the modern system for signalling the engine room.
Though both carriers had been creeping through the fog with barely steerage way, it seemed to the anxious groups on each that they were racing together at express-train speed. But the reversed propellers of the Admiral were doing their work, the boat checked with a suddenness that sent the boys and some of the crew sprawling on the bridge, quivered and then began to back, the bow swinging away from the Prescott.
“Port your wheel, hard over!” ordered Captain Perkins, as his boat moved astern.
Still the Prescott came on, then her propellers bit, and she, too, checked, but not before her nose was where the huge carrier’s had been scarce a moment before.