Giving crisp helm orders to the quartermaster, Maynebrace again rang down for reduced speed.
“Mr. Raxworthy!”
“Sir!”
“You will take away the whaler and pick up survivors from yonder vessel. Follow in our wake as well as you can and we’ll return and pick you up as soon as possible.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
The midshipman skipped down the bridge ladder and ran aft where, in obedience to the trill of the bo’sun’s mate’s pipe, the whaler’s crew had fallen in.
The boat had already been swung out. The crew took their places, Raxworthy by virtue of his rank being the last to step aboard.
The ropes ran through the blocks as the lowerers paid out the falls. Three feet from the surface the lowerers belayed, waiting for the destroyer to slow down.
“Slip!” ordered the midshipman.
The whaler struck the water with a hearty slap. A touch of the helm threw her clear of the destroyer’s quarter. Buster immediately increased speed, leaving her boat bobbing and pitching in her wake.