for a moment. He saw the ship begin to swing in her hard-over turn, circling to come back through the area, and when he had his breath back he slipped over the side again and began to push the raft toward the circle of light, some two hundred yards away. By the time he came up to it the ship had already reached the limit of her opposite course and was turning toward him again. He stopped in the edge of the illuminated area with the raft between the flare and the oncoming ship so he would be silhouetted against it, and climbed back aboard. He waved, knowing they would have their glasses on the light and would have seen him by now. Lying on his back, he fought his way into the soggy dungarees. He sat up, drank the last of the water in the bottle, and waited.

The ship came on. While still a quarter mile away they backed down briefly on the engine to take most of the way off her there, before they came abreast, so the wash from the propeller wouldn’t sweep him away from her. The engine stopped, and she began to drift slowly down on him, coming to rest at last not more than fifty yards away. He saw men working on the boat deck, and one of the starboard boats started to swing out in its davits. They didn’t know what kind of shape he might be in, or whether there could be somebody else lying in the bottom of the raft.

He cupped his hands. ‘Don’t lower a boat! Just a ladder!’

A voice came back from the darkness of the bridge. ‘You sure? How about the accommodation ladder?’

That would be stowed, and it would take twenty minutes to break it out and rig it. ‘Just a pilot ladder,’ he shouted back. He took a quick look around to be sure there were no cruising dorsals attracted by the flare, slipped over the side, and began pushing the raft ahead of him. In a minute the beam of a flashlight probed downward from the after well-deck to give him a mark, and just before he reached the ship’s side there was the rattle and bumping of a pilot ladder being dropped over. The lower end of it was in the water under the beam of light. He pushed the raft aside and swam over to it. The end of a line dropped into the sea beside him.

‘Make it fast around yourself,’ a voice called down. They were determined to make a stretcher case out of him, he thought, but they might have a case, at that. He was pretty well used up. He treaded water while he passed the line around under his arms and made it fast. Grasping the chains at the ends of the ladder treads, he started up, while the men above took up the slack in his safety line. It was a long way up, and he found he was weaker than he’d thought. Hands grasped his arms and helped him over the bulwark and down on deck. He shook with fatigue while water dripped from his body, vaguely conscious of an excited buzzing of voices from a number of the crew gathered in the well-deck. One of the cargo lights was turned on. Somebody unbent the safety line while two men continued to support him, apparently trying to lead him over to a seat on a hatch cover. He shook his head.

‘I’m all right,’ he gasped.

The blond giant who had hold of his right arm let go, grinned at him, and said, ‘I guess you are, at that. And I thought I had a patient to practice on.’ He indicated the open first-aid kit on the hatch cover. Beside it was a pitcher of water. He poured a glass half full. ‘Easy does it’.

Goddard drank it and returned the glass. ‘I had a little on the raft.’

The only man present with an officer’s cap stepped forward. ‘I’m Captain Steen. Are there any others?’

‘No, just me.’ Goddard grinned painfully, his sun-and-salt-ravaged face feeling as though it would crack. ‘I’m glad to meet you, Captain.’ He held out his hand. ‘My name’s Goddard.’

They shook hands, Captain Steen somewhat stiffly, apparently a man with very little humor. Steen turned to one of the crew, and said, ‘Tell Mr. VanDoorn he can get under way.’

Goddard looked at the big man who had helped him aboard and given him the water. Though he was