Point is, can you manage in
the engine-room for two or three hours longer? Three more waves
like that last one and the man's ours anyway!"
"He might not wait two hours," suggested Mr. Hartley. "He might get
tired of looking at us, and beat back into port. Then where would
be your strategy?"
"Then there wouldn't be a pilot available. I'd be justified in going
in without one. Point is, can you hold out below?"
"Man," said Mr. Hartley, "you're a genius." He peered through the
spray down to leeward, where the pilot's boat danced a death dance
alongside, heel and toe to the Puncher's statelier swing. "Yes;
there are three men bailing, and you're a genius. But no! The answer's
no! The engines'll keep on turning, maybe and perhaps, until we make
the shelter o' yon reef. There's no knowing what a cherry-red bearing
will do. I can give ye maybe fifteen knots; maybe a leetle more
for just five minutes, for steerage way and luck, and after that--"
Even crouched as he was against the canvas guard he contrived to
shrug his shoulders.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283