sweeping completely over her bow, tore aft along her deck, smashing and rending. The two small boats were snatched bodily from their davits and hurled far astern into the raging sea. A third was torn loose, and hung by its after-fall, swinging back and forth with the motion of the Iroquois, like a monster pendulum, pounding the ship’s rail to pieces.
“Look!” cried Henry. “That boat will batter a hole in the side of the ship. I must tell the captain.”
He dashed out of the radio house, leaving Belford on watch. Before Henry had taken two steps he realized how reckless he had been to jump out on the deck so thoughtlessly. He could not stand erect without support. Wildly he clutched for a life-line, caught it, and started for the bridge. But the captain was well aware of what had happened. Already he was making preparations to cut away the swinging boat. Sailors were issuing on deck with axes. The captain himself came down from the bridge.
“Stand back,” roared the commander. “That boat’s liable to tear loose and kill somebody.”
Quickly a rope was tied about the body of a sailor, and cautiously he approached the swinging boat. Watching his opportunity, he swung his axe against the fall, severing it. The lifeboat dropped outboard like a plummet. An upshoot-