“Now,” he breathed, leaning far out over the rail, “now I got her. Now—”
He had succeeded in getting his hands on the marker when catastrophe came thundering up at them from the deep. A tremendous explosion sent the water rocketing toward the sky. The prow of the Stormy Petrel rose until it seemed she would go completely over.
Frantically Johnny gripped the wheel to save himself from being plunged into the icy water. But where was MacGregor?
For ten tense seconds the boat stood with prow in air. Then with a slow, sickening swash, she came down.
“MacGregor!” Johnny cried. “What happened? Where are you?”
“Here—here I am!” MacGregor’s voice rose from the sea.
“Johnny!” his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Shove off that life boat. Get her off just any way. There’s a terrible hole in the Stormy’s side. She’ll sink in another minute. For God’s sake, be quick!”
Johnny was quick and strong. If ever his strength stood him in good stead it was now.
The life boat hung over the afterdeck. The knots of ropes that held it in place were wet and stiff with fog.
“No time,” he muttered. With his knife he slashed away the ropes. The boat fell on deck with a thud. It was a heavy steel boat. To his consternation, he saw that it had fallen squarely between the heavy rails. The prow must be lifted. Creeping under it, he put all the strength of his back against it. It rose.