'Tell him to
clear out as quick as he can. I'm not going to waste shells on that thing.
A charge of gun-cotton in her hold is all she's worth.'
With much bad language, the Turkish skipper cleared off, and the three
boats containing himself and his crew pulled away in the direction of the
land, which was just visible on the almost before the words left the
commander's lips, and pulling like fury for the steamer.
'Make for the bows,' he heard Strang shout, and he did so.
The distance was nothing--merely a couple of hundred yards. He glanced
round over his shoulder, and saw the rusty bows towering above him--saw,
too, to his intense relief, that the old man had realised that he was to
be rescued and was moving forward.
Ken shipped his sculls. The dinghy glided in under the tall side of the
tramp. Ken stood up, and looked round for a rope. He could not see one.
There seemed no way of climbing the perpendicular side of the vessel, yet
it was quite clear that the old man could not get down unaided.
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