"Something there to starboard just off our bow!" shouted Jack, who had
climbed up on the conning tower.
McClure directed that both searchlights be flashed in the direction of
the muffled calls and was rewarded by the faint outlines of a small
boat buffeted about in the water like a cork.
"Well, they are not our boys," said the _Dewey's_ skipper listlessly.
Then, taking Jack's megaphone, he shouted: "Who are you?"
A tail, gaunt figure loomed up in the bow of the lifeboat. He was
waving a life-belt frantically with an appealing gesture for aid.
"Survivors from der German gunboat Strassburg," came the reply in
broken English.
McClure ordered them to come alongside and cautioned his men to be on
guard against any surprise attack.
Out of the gloom came the lifeboat like a weird specter, propelled by
the sweeping oars of half a dozen frantically working seamen. It was
crowded with a motley crew of bedraggled sailors. They presented a
pitiable spectacle as their craft slowly made its way toward the
_Dewey_ and into the bright rays from the searchlights.
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