Bullets chucked
viciously into the water about the dinghy.
Under the straining arms of four oarsmen the little boat moved briskly
out of its perilous position. Jammed between two sailors, the boy sat
staring back at the men gathering on the promenade. The flashing of many
rifles kept a constant streak of light along a considerable section of
the deck. Bullets seemed to whine within an inch of his ears. The dinghy
appeared to be retreating at a snail's pace, and the frightened boy
gripped furiously at the gunwale in an absurd effort to speed it up. He
twisted about, trying to keep his shoulders in a line with the flashing
rifles so as to offer the thinnest target. A man in the stern of the
dinghy groaned, and slumped down into the bottom.
Just then a searchlight leaped into play from the top deck of the ship.
Its long ray shot out in a trembling cone through the darkness. It
switched here and there with appalling swiftness. The crew in the little
boat stared at it, holding their breaths. When that leaping ray fell on
the dinghy it would be followed by a rain of steel.
The firing on the promenade deck ceased, Waiting for the searchlight to
direct their aim. Just then the beam fell on the _Vulcan_ with
dazzling brilliance. The tug stood out sharply against the night, and
she proved to be much closer than Leonard had fancied.
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