"ArkCovenantPart5" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacClure Victor)

It was out of the question to try and bring the Merlin alongside the heaving
freeboard of the liner. We would have had our wings smashed for a certainty. Nor
was there space available to land on any of the decks, cluttered as they were
with ventilators and deck gear. The only likely place to bring her aboard was on
what appeared to be a long stretch of canvas covering the promenade deck astern,
and it was a question if that would take her weight. Fortunately, there was no
cordage much aft of the jiggermast, except for one stay coming down to the
stern-post, and all halyards were reeved close to the mast. A ventilator or two
pierced the awning.
Though it was a terribly risky thing to attempt with the ship rolling as she
did, it was the only chance, and I told Milliken what I proposed to do.
"All right, Mr. Boon," he said. "There's nothing else for it--if we are to get
aboard. I don't blame you."
"What about you, Dan? It's a hundred to one you'll be smashed or spilled into
the sea."
"That's all right, Jimmy. Go ahead with it."
"I'll get down on the floats, Mr. Boon," said Milliken; "might be handy to brace
her if she topples."
He fetched out a length of rope and cut it in two, then, taking off his coat, he
slid through the hatch to the port-side float.
I was depending on the Merlin's power of hovering to pull the thing off, so I
took her up a bit to one side astern of the ship, gauging the distance to miss
that after-stay. The ship, rolling horridly, came up to meet us. We were over
the awning, then it veered from under us--I thought we'd missed it, when--back
it swung--slowly. I flicked the rudder round to bring us into line with the
ridge of the awning. We landed with a grinding shudder, then heeled sideways as
if we'd never right. I had quite made up my mind that we were going to crash
over on our back in the sea below--but after a sickening moment or two of
suspense we righted!
Dan, flat on the floor, with his head poked out of the hatch, let out a yell.
"By Christopher, Jimmy!" he shouted. "Did you see that?"
"What?"
"Milliken! Oh, you Milliken!"
It was Milliken who had saved us. Lying on the float, he had seized hold of one
of the ventilators as we settled, and, with those amazingly powerful arms of his
outstretched, had braced us as we toppled, otherwise we would have crashed
overboard. Few men living could have done it. When I got down on top of the
awning, my mechanic was composedly tying one of the float struts to the
ventilator, and a very white face was all he showed of the superhuman effort he
had put out.
"Not much damage done, Mr. Boon," he said quietly. "Except that the starboard
float has sprung a bit, I think."
"Good for you, Milliken," was all the thanks I dared give him for saving our
lives. "You stopped us from going overboard."
Luckily for us, the canvas of the awning was stretched over stout boards,
strongly supported, and these were sufficient to take the weight of the
seaplane. Milliken lashed the opposite strut to another ventilator, and we all
climbed down to the deck.
The ship still was held by that awful silence, unbroken save for the lap-lapping
of the sea about her, and I fancy all three of us were gripped by a sense of