Madden was still more astonished. "What good would that do?" he called
above the wind. "She'd be captured, too."
"Certainly," agreed the Englishman brusquely, "but if she had a
wireless, she might report the situation to the Admiralty before they
sank us."
Madden removed his binoculars and stared at his friend. "Are you staking
your life on as long a chance as _that_?"
"My boy," said Smith, in an oddly matured tone, "when the safety of
one's country is at stake, one man's life doesn't amount to
_that_!" he snapped his fingers. "If there's a point to be gained,
you accept any chance automatically--or no chance at all."
The American returned no answer, but there flashed into his mind the
legend of the Tyrian who beached his galley in order to save the secret
of Cornwall. Caradoc's narrative was oddly prophetic of the fate of the
_Vulcan_. And Madden wondered with a quirk of grim humor if there
were a foreigner aboard that Tyrian's galley, and what _he_ thought
about the sacrifice.
There was another jagged report as a shell burst just aft the tug, then
a missile of some thousands of pounds shrieked through the air just
above the stumpy masts and filled the sky with fire and thunder a
hundred yards ahead.
Out of the cabin came the rocket bearers, quite over their fright by
now, and acting with the nervous steadiness which acute danger brings.
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