"Very well," said the Master decisively. "Our prospects are good. The
wounded are coming on. Counting Lebon, we have twenty-five men. I
will have all stores reloaded at once. Be ready in one hour, sir.
Understand?"
"Yes, sir!" And Frazier, saluting again, returned to the ravaged but
once more efficient engine-room.
All hands plunged into the surf, wading ashore--for it was now
high-tide--and in short order reloaded the liner. In forty-five
minutes stores, machine-guns, and everything had been brought aboard,
the cables to the posts in the beach had been cast off and hauled in,
and all the Legionaries were at their posts. The ports were closed.
Everything was ready for the supreme test.
The Master was last to come aboard. Still dripping seawater, he
clambered up the ladder from the lower gallery to the main corridor,
and made his way into the pilot-house. Bohannan was with him, also
Leclair and Captain Alden.
The engines had already been started, and the helicopters had begun
to turn, flickering swiftly in their turbine-tubes. The Master settled
himself in the pilot's seat. All at once a buzzer sounded close at
hand.
"Well, what now?" demanded the Master into the phone communicating
with the upper port gallery.
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