“If this wind ever hit the farm, gran’pa wouldn’t have a roof over his head in the morning,” shouted Herc in his comrade’s ear. Ned was about to reply in a similar vein when a sudden cry rang above the uproar of the laboring destroyer and the howling of the wind. It was a shout that chilled the blood of every man in that group--the most terrible cry that can be heard at sea on such a night. “Man overboard!” CHAPTER IV. MAN OVERBOARD! “The life buoy!” came a sharp shout from the conning tower. “Gone away, sir!” roared back the sailor whose duty it was to watch the contrivance. Already, such was the speed of the destroyer, the blue flame of the chemical buoy showed some distance astern--now glimpsed on the top of a wave, now vanishing altogether. But even as Ned’s heart, which had stilled for an instant--or so he imagined--at the shout of alarm, began to beat again, the speed diminished. Waves began to hammer viciously at the slowing craft. The midshipman on watch had set the telegraph to “full speed astern!” The engine-room crew had instantly obeyed the order. Into the angry sea the slender, vibrating craft began to back at the full power of her propellers. As she did so, the middy was already off the bridge and among the watch. Lieutenant Timmons had also appeared, oilskins hastily thrown over his pajamas. He had assumed command and was on the conning tower. “Volunteers for the boat!” sang out the middy. “How many, sir?” asked Stanley. “Four. That’s enough. We don’t want to overcrowd her.” “Then there’s four more here than you’ll want, sir,” rejoined Stanley, as the entire watch stepped forward. The middy chose Herc and Ned and Stanley, and a man named Beesley. All were alert, strong and fearless, true types of Uncle Sam’s sailormen. In the meantime the boat had been unlashed and made ready for slinging. If it would have been dangerous to launch a boat on such a night from a battleship, how infinitely more so was it from the bounding, swaying deck of the destroyer! Never still for an instant, her military mast was cutting big arcs back and forth against the ragged sky. But not one of those men hesitated a wink of an eyelid. Into the boat they piled, and the next instant the quadrant davits had dropped them overside into the turmoil! A sharp “click” told that the falls had been automatically loosened. “Stand by!” shouted the middy, who stood in the stern with the steering oar. As he spoke, a mighty wave picked the boat up as if it had been a walnut shell and swept it dizzily away from the side of the destroyer. Off into the blackness it was carried before the oarsmen had time to stay it. The sharp command rang out again: “Give way!”