Another big pull, and he was level with the
rail.
The old Turk stood staring at him, but did not seem to recognise him, and
naturally Ken did not wait to explain. Every instant he expected to see
the decks burst upwards, and the whole ship fly to pieces. He knew that it
could be only a matter of seconds before the explosion took place.
A rope--that was what he wanted most just at that moment, and luckily he
had not far to go for one. An untidy coil of line lay close beside the
forward hatch.
He sprang for it, whipped it up, and in a trice had put a loop in it, and
made a double bight around Othman's body.
'Over you go, Pacha!' he said with a sharpness which at last reached the
muddled brains of the poor old Turk.
Somehow he bundled him over the rail, and lowered him quickly yet
carefully into the boat which fortunately remained where he had left it
alongside.
'Cast off the rope, Pacha,' he shouted in an agony of impatience, and
Othman fumblingly tried to obey. Ken saw that he would never do it in
time, so rapidly made fast his own end to the rail, and giving one pull to
tighten the knot, sprang over.
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