Part 41 (1/2)
”We're across the frontier now,” he announced, as the little craft curtsied to the slight undulations of the comparatively wide expanse of the West Scheldt. ”Now, girls, which shall it be? Shall I land you on Dutch territory, or will you risk crossing the North Sea?”
Thelma's was a prompt answer.
”We'll stay with you, boys.”
”Will it be very rough?” asked Yvonne. She had faced the dangers of the bombardment bravely, but the perils of a voyage upon the open sea in a small, partly-decked craft gave her misgivings that the presence of her companions failed to keep in check.
”Smooth as a mill-pond,” declared Kenneth optimistically. ”There's no wind. We'll have plenty of company on the way, I fancy; and what is more, the British navy has complete control of this part of the North Sea. We are doing fifteen knots, I think; that's a little over seventeen miles an hour. We ought to be in sight of the Kentish coast a couple of hours after sunrise.”
”Then I am satisfied,” declared Yvonne.
”That's good! Now, girls, how about a cup of coffee? I can't make it, so perhaps you'll do a good turn. Rollo will light the cabin light and show you where the fresh water is stored.”
As soon as his three companions had withdrawn to the cabin Kenneth closed the door. The gleam from within dazzled his eyes, and, with so much traffic about, that would never do. The motor-boat was running without navigation lights. If there were any ”steaming” lamps on board he had failed to notice them. But the rule of the road seemed to be sadly neglected that fateful night. There were vessels of all sizes and rigs making for safety, and not one-tenth of their number showed the regulation red and green lights.
Left to himself, Kenneth began to realize once more that his hand was throbbing. The flow of blood had entirely ceased, and a dry, burning pain succeeded the comparative ease of the wound while it bled freely.
He was desperately hungry and thirsty. For forty-eight hours he had been on short commons. The reaction of the days and nights of strenuous activity was beginning to tell.
The motor-boat, gliding swiftly through the water, had now outstripped all the fis.h.i.+ng luggers. Ahead were three or four steamers making to the westward. Others, shaping a course for Ostend, had swung away to the port hand.
”Rollo!” sang out his chum sharply. ”Come and take the helm for a minute.”
”I was just coming,” answered Rollo as he emerged from the cabin.
”There's coffee waiting for you. And the girls have made a rattling good job of my wrist,” he added, pointing to a neatly-bandaged arm in a sling.
”Follow that vessel,” ordered Kenneth, pointing to a steamer a couple of miles ahead, her stern-light showing brightly in the clear starlit night. ”If you overhaul her, or if there's anything likely to be dangerous, give me the word.”
”One minute,” protested Rollo. ”The spray's das.h.i.+ng in through the broken scuttles. I'll try and fix up the strip of canvas. It's long enough to go right round.”
Kenneth waited until his chum had completed the necessary and self-imposed task. Being able to use only one hand, it was a difficult, not to say dangerous, business securing the canvas round the raised cabin-top, for the boat was now jumping considerably.
”That's done it!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Rollo. ”Now, old man, down you go. I'll keep her going somehow.”
”You have been a time, Kenneth,” exclaimed his sister reproachfully.
”Your coffee is getting cold. Why, what's the matter?”
She broke off her reproaches in alarm, for Kenneth's face was grey and drawn in the light of the cabin-lamp.
”Only my hand,” announced her brother, with a feeble, ill-disguised attempt at unconcern as he withdrew the badly-bandaged member from the flap of his coat.
”What! Are we still under fire?”
”No; this occurred five or six hours ago. It's a clean wound.”
Gently the two girls attended to the injury. The handkerchief had to be soaked before it could be withdrawn from the wound. In five minutes the now experienced young nurses had washed the place with antiseptic and had bound it with lint.
”Right as anything now,” declared Kenneth. ”I'll have my coffee and get on deck again.”
”You had far better rest,” replied his sister; ”and Rollo, too, is steering; in spite of his wounded wrist. I'll go and take the wheel; it won't be the first time.”