“Overboard, everybody!” cried Stanley, setting the example and clinging to the edge of the boat, his body being over the side. With one arm he supported the rescued middy. The others followed his example. It was cruel work for Ned, and he was glad to feel Herc’s strong arm at his elbow as they clung to the helpless, water-logged boat. “Say, looks like we’re goners!” exclaimed Herc, as he held tightly to Ned. “If the _Beale_ doesn’t hurry up, we are,” agreed Ned. “Wonder if they’ve seen our plight?” “Not yet, but here comes the searchlight.” As Herc spoke the bright rays enveloped them. They fancied they could hear a loud shout of consternation borne down on the wind toward them; for by this time the destroyer was well up to the weatherward of the half-sunk boat. “Now, if they’ll only get us in their lee, they may get us out of this yet,” exclaimed Ned. “And that’s what they are going to do,” cried Herc jubilantly, as the black form of the destroyer drew closer and closer. Her propellers were backing her slowly. Her commanding officer was allowing the wind to drift her down toward the submerged boat. In this way it was hoped to form what sailors call a lee. That is, the big form of the destroyer would be interposed between the wind and the boat. In the comparative calm thus formed on her lee side, it was hoped that it would prove feasible to get the castaways on board. But those minutes of waiting were among the most trying any of them had ever experienced. Time and again a monster wave would engulf the half-sunk boat, submerging the clinging crew altogether. At last, just as Ned’s strength seemed to be giving out, he saw above him the black, glistening outline of the destroyer. From somewhere far above him, as it seemed, a line came whistling through the air. Exerting his remaining strength, he caught it and made fast. He heard shouted commands above him and saw lights flitting hither and thither. All at once both boat and destroyer seemed to be picked up together and hurled upward to the sky in a dizzy ascent. The next instant the downward drop started. Ned felt his senses leaving him. In the midst of a terrific crash, which he knew was the splintering of the helpless boat against the _Beale’s_ steel sides, his senses went out. CHAPTER V. THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS’ FORTUNE. “You’re wanted aft.” The word came to Ned the next day as he lay, feeling rather dizzy and light-headed, in his hammock. There is no sick bay on a destroyer, and so special leave had been granted him to have his hammock slung during the daytime. The Dreadnought Boy had been the only one of the boat’s crew injured in the onslaught of the mighty wave. Strong arms had pulled the rest to safety without injury. Ned, however, had been caught in the wreckage and badly bruised. As the parting of a light line released him from the tangle of the smashed boat, he had been flung head first against the _Beale’s_ quarter.