Again the telegraphs clanged: “ Quarter speed astern both! ” Then “ Stop! ”
A few seconds later three bluejackets hauling on a bowline, brought the rescued man inboard like a hooked salmon.
III
Reassured on that score, Maynebrace brought his attention back to the Su-me. That nasty little trick on the part of the gang who had seized her had resulted in a gain of about a mile. It didn’t want a masthead angle with a sextant to tell Maynebrace that.
Again in response to orders from the bridge the destroyer leapt forward, lifting her bows and throwing up a huge bow wave.
At all costs Buster must head off her quarry before she gained the safety of territorial waters; although her lieutenant-commander vowed he’d get her even if she piled herself up on the beach, even if he were “smashed” for it!
Then another white-uniformed man was hurled from the Su-me’s poop; while to act as a human screen against the destroyer’s fire, four more were dragged aft by their yellow captors and lashed to the taffrail.
Maynebrace muttered something under his breath. Here was a disturbing factor in the situation. He’d have to slow down to pick up the second man; he couldn’t cripple the fugitive ship, and she was more than holding her own in the chase.
“Why not lower the whaler, sir,” suggested Cotterdell. “We can pick him up when we’ve scuppered those johnnies.”
The lieutenant-commander was used to making quick decisions and his judgment was rarely at fault. He couldn’t very well send away any of his officers. Each had his duties to perform should the destroyer be in action; but there was the supernumerary, Midshipman Kenneth Raxworthy.