"
He hustled himself into his clothes and was ready as soon as
Porky, who considered himself the record dresser. Together they
slipped through the dark passage and went up on deck. The
Firefly fled like a wild thing, cutting a swift path through a
rough and choppy sea.
They went forward. Motionless, a dark blur against the sky line,
they saw the lookout, his eyes searching the waste. Scudding
clouds were massing in the east. A storm was on the way. The
boys walked the length of the steamer and leaned over the stern,
where the water boiled furiously away from the propeller. Close
beside them another watch silently studied the surface of the
sea. The night lifted a little. It was nearly dawn. The boys
felt depressed. Porky turned and studied the sky in the east;
Beany kept his keen eyes on the water behind the Firefly.
Suddenly be clutched his brother's arm.
"See! See!" he cried. "Where that patch of white shows! She's
coming! Look! Look!"
The glass of the lookout swept the waves. "Nothing there," he
said gruffly. Then with a gasp he cried loudly, "Torpedo port;
torpedo port!"
Porky saw a slim, swift something cleaving the water. It made
straight for the ship. His reason told him that it would strike;
he grasped his brother by the arm.
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