“Oars, lads! . . . Give way!”
He had to stand up in the stern-sheets and shade his eyes in order to keep the ditched men under observation.
The destroyer raced past him, and for some moments the man was hidden in the turmoil of her bow wave.
The men gave way with a will, pulling with long, swinging strokes that sent the lean whaler through the water in fine style.
“Way ‘nough! In bow!”
In a trice willing hands hauled the second victim from the sea.
He was a young man in the twenties. His face was partly hidden by several days’ growth of beard; his saturated drill uniform was rent in many places. The knuckles of his left hand were raw.
He was passed aft and deposited upon the grating in the stern-sheets.
Raxworthy ordered the men to resume their oars and steered in the direction Buster and her quarry had taken.
“Been in a rough house, haven’t you?” he inquired of the man coiled up at his feet.