Following the double clang of the bell the destroyer's engines were promptly stopped and quickly reversed. The skipper's keen eye had discerned a raft crowded with men as the "Audax" swept past at a distance of less than twenty yards. Aubyn gave a brief glance at the raging seas and held up his hand. The gesture was understood by the men already standing in expectancy at the falls. It meant "Stand fast." No boat could live in such a turmoil of angry waves, yet there were heroes ready and willing to risk their lives in a vain attempt at rescue. The "Audax" was about to make an effort by other means, but first the raft had to be found again, for before way had been taken off the destroyer the handful of survivors of the ill-fated ship were lost in the darkness and in the wash of water astern. Nor could the searchlights be switched on without grave risk to the all-important task of rounding-up the German torpedo-boats. The "Audax" had to grope round like a blind man in the hope of falling in with the drifting raft. "Shoutin' dead to wind'ard, sir, right on the starboard beam," shouted half a dozen voices. "There they are, sir, a cable's length off." In a patch of phosphorescent foam, as it lifted dizzily on the crest of a broken wave, could be discerned the object of the search. The next instant it had vanished in the trough of the seas. "Hard a-port!" roared the skipper. "Hard a-port, sir," repeated the quartermaster, Turning, the "Audax" slowed down, coming to a standstill, save for the motion created by the scend of the seas and the leeward drift caused by the strong wind, at a few yards to windward of the raft, which on nearer acquaintance proved to be a number of deck planks still adhering to the fractured beams. Under the lee of the destroyer the raft floated in comparatively smooth water, and the work of transferring the handful of well-nigh exhausted men commenced. Five or six were hauled on board by means of bowlines; three were incapable of stirring a hand to help themselves, and since their comrades made no effort to assist in their rescue several of the destroyer's hands went overboard and, grasping the unconscious men, were heaved back with no greater damage than bruised knuckles and grazed shins. "Wot are we to do with these 'ere blokes, Sir?" inquired a seaman of the destroyer's lieutenant, who had temporarily quitted the bridge to superintend the work of rescue. "Our mess deck's flooded out." "They want warmth. Pass the word to the engineer commander to ask if he has room for nine men in the stokehold." "Me from Danmark sheep," volubly asserted one man as he was being led below. "All right, my man," replied the lieutenant, "We'll hear your story later. Hullo, Barcroft, you on deck? Make yourself useful, old boy, and find out what happened to these fellows. I must be hopping back to my perch. Thank your lucky stars it isn't your watch."