“Dead astern, sir; about two miles off.”
“H’m. Look here, Yardley, I’m going to put the wind up these Chinks badly.”
“Good egg, sir! How, might I ask?”
“Ask Cotterdell and the sub to come here; then I’ll explain. It’s going to be a ticklish business and if I, or any of us, get knocked out, the others must carry on as long as there’s a man left on the upper deck. There must be no bungling. I’m going straight for the Supreme at full speed. So will you ask the others to come this way?”
Lieutenant Yardley positively gaped.
His superior officer’s declaration left him speechless. Maynebrace was going to ram! But with what results? Buster would probably cut the tramp completely in two and concertina her own bows in the process. As likely as not, she’d strip the blades from her propellers, through fouling wreckage. The Supreme would sink like a stone and then the British captives tied to her rails would go down with her.
“The Owner must be as mad as a March hare,” thought Yardley. “If he carries this stunt out and doesn’t have the luck to stop a bullet, he’ll be court-martialled and sent on the beach!”
V
“ Buster’s made our number, sir!” reported the coxswain of the whaler.
“Our recall?” asked Raxworthy.