Admirably manoeuvred and conned by the Old Man, the _West Barbican_ drew near the tanker's boat. Slowly she passed within heaving distance. The now excited lascars heaved lines, several of which fell short. Two at least dropped athwart the boat, but no attempt was made on the part of her crew to secure them. The luckless men were either dead or else rendered insensible by the hot, suffocating air. The ship had now lost way. Her head was beginning to pay off. It was necessary to go ahead in order to regain steerage way; but, at the same time, if the work of rescue were to be consummated, it would be necessary to make use of one of the _West Barbican's_ boats. "Lower away!" roared the Old Man. At that moment the tanker disappeared beneath the surface. The tower of flame that enveloped her died down to a mere flicker, completely outclassed by the glare of a dozen distinct patches of fiercely burning oil. The lascars manning the falls hesitated, while their comrades in the boat showed signs of panic. In the confusion they noticed that, unaccountably there was no officer on board the lifeboat. Mostyn was one of those men who in moments of danger are prone to act independently--they simply cannot remain passive spectators when there is work to be done. It was no business of the Wireless Officer to go away in the boats. His duty was to stay by the wireless gear. But in this case Peter knew that he could do nothing in the cabin with the aerial out of action. He could be of use in the boat, to take command and steady the decidedly "jumpy" Asiatics. The overwhelming instinct to bear a hand seized him in an instant. Running aft to where the lifeboat swung outboard he leapt into the stern-sheets, grasped the yoke lines, and shouted to the tindal to lower away. The man, seeing that a sahib was in the boat but not recognizing who he was, gave the word to the lascars manning the falls, and the boat was lowered rapidly and evenly. Mostyn had a momentary vision of the lighted scuttles slipping upwards as the boat dropped down past the ship's side. Then with a sharp flop the lifeboat struck the oily surface. Simultaneously the lower blocks of the falls disengaged, and the boat began to drift astern. "Give way!" ordered Peter. The lascars, trained to obey commands issued in English, acted smartly. With the presence of a sahib in the lifeboat their fears, if not entirely banished, were cloaked by the sense of discipline. "Pull starboard; back port." The lifeboat turned in almost her own length. Already the steadily converging patches of flames justified this order. To turn under the use of the helm alone would bring the boat in contact with the oil-fired water. "Together--way 'nough--in bow." In five minutes from the time Peter had taken his place in the stern-sheets the two boats were gunwale to gunwale. In the tanker's whaler were seven human forms huddled in weird postures, either on the bottom-boards or across the thwarts.