'No, it's simply a matter of running and dodging,' said Ken, and turning went back to where his father was standing.
'Poor luck, Ken,' said the latter with his usual calmness. 'The beggar's gaining hand over fist. She's at least five knots faster than we.'
'Well, we've hurt the Turks a jolly sight worse than they can hurt us, that's one comfort, dad,' Ken replied. 'They can't replace that ammunition.'
Before his father could answer, a shell from the destroyer passed so close overhead that the wind of it flung them both down. There was a splintering crash, and the launch quivered all over.
'Hurt, father?' cried Ken, springing up.
'Not a bit, thanks. But I'm afraid the launch is.'
'She's still moving anyhow. No, it's only carried away a bit of the cabin top. We're all right still.'
The searchlight grew clearer every moment. Already the hull of the flying launch began to show up in the misty radiance. Her steersman sent her shooting in wide curves, and so succeeded in upsetting the aim of the Turkish gunners. But it was only putting off the inevitable end, and that was clear to every soul aboard.
