Shouting an order to the crew, Rankine gripped the bridge-rails hard.
The water ahead boiled and rose in a tumbling ridge; there was a heavy shock, and the steamer trembled violently. One could feel her forge through something that crumpled up beneath her bows; but the jarring and grinding passed aft, and she leaped forward when she was once over the obstacle. Rankine saw a curious disturbance down the screw-torn wake, but it subsided and he stopped the engines.
"Sound the forward well! Swing your light aft and lower the gig!" he ordered.
The stream of radiance flashed astern and spread about the vessel; but there was nothing on the water except their own boat, which made toward them. Then a man came up to report that the well was nearly dry.
"She's a strong old ship," Rankine remarked, and turned to another man: "Where's that prisoner, Evans?"
"I haven't seen him, sir, since the torpedo missed us."
"Ask on deck," said Rankine. "Why isn't the gig away?"
As the man went down the ladder, a splash of oars began, and the searchlight's moving beam swept the sea. It picked out the larger boat and then passed on, leaving black darkness, and followed the gig. Ten minutes later, the boats returned and Rankine received the young lieutenant in his cabin.
"We have six men; all from the first craft, so far as we can make out," the lieutenant reported, with rather strained quietness.
"Then the rest have gone," Rankine said. "We have lost one prisoner, too. It's pretty obvious that he jumped over. He must have known there were two submarines and expected the last to sink us."
"He was not in the boats. Do you want to see the men we picked up?"
"Not just yet. Let them have dry clothes and anything else they need. I wish we'd got some of the others; I don't know that one ought to think they deserved their fate. But, after all, when one remembers the torpedoed merchant ships-- However, we'll land them in Loch Ryan. Let her go west by north until you make the Mull of Galloway light."
The lieutenant went out, and Rankine, lying back on the locker, lighted his pipe. It was his first battle, and he wanted to recover his normal calm. He had won, but he did not quite feel the exhilarating flush of victory he had expected. Instead, he rather shrank from dwelling upon the fight.