"By Jove! What a death-trap!" ejaculated Farnworth, as the whaler followed the gig round the extremity of the reef.
Dick nodded acquiescence. As a sailor he had a wholesome respect for a lee shore. He feared the perils of the coast far more than the chance of falling into a hostile ambush.
The boats of the _Tremendous_ were already at the rendezvous. Here it was comparatively calm water, only a long oily roll setting in over the reef. The four small craft lay at a boathook's length apart while the officers discussed the plan of operation.
"I propose that the two whalers make their way alongside the wreck," said Bourne. "The gigs can lay off and cover them should they be fired upon. If anything befall either, and the crew cannot be rescued without endangering the others, the men must make their way ashore as best they can. We cannot afford to lose two boats."
"And what then?" asked the lieutenant of the _Tremendous_.
"They'll have to make an attempt to skirt the shore of the bay," continued Bourne. "The chart shows that there is a beach extending almost as far as Bender Dagh Point. We would then stand a chance of picking them up, as it would be practicable to run a boat ashore under the lee of the reef. You quite understand?"
The rest of the officers signified assent.
"Very well: the sooner we get to work the better. Nor'west by west a quarter west ought to bring us in sight of the wreck. Now carry on."
The two whalers pulled almost neck and neck at half a dozen boats' lengths apart, while at a good cable's length astern, and quite invisible to the rest, followed the gigs.
At a quarter of the distance across the bay the boats began to feel the effect of the seas. Half-way the crested waves, broad on the port quarter, began to break over the gunwales. Two men were detailed to keep baling, but in spite of their efforts the _Hammerer's_ whaler was in danger of being swamped. To keep on the course was to court destruction. It was only by watching the waves, and meeting the more menacing ones nearly bows on, that the frail craft was able to live in the turmoil of angry water.
"Lumme! won't we have a job to clean our bloomin' rifles when we get back," muttered the "stroke" in tones loud enough for the Sub to hear.