It had indeed been bloody, for they had drawn off and joined our other three boats in the attack on the remaining two of the enemy.

The deserted boat was in the trough of the sea, rolling drunkenly across each comber, its loose spritsail out at right angles to it and fluttering and flapping in the wind.

The hunter and boat-puller were both lying awkwardly in the bottom, but the boat-steerer lay across the gunwale, half in and half out, his arms trailing in the water and his head rolling from side to side.
"Don't look, Miss Brewster, please don't look," I had begged of her, and I was glad that she had minded me and been spared the sight.
"Head right into the bunch, Mr.Van Weyden," was Wolf Larsen's command.
As we drew nearer, the firing ceased, and we saw that the fight was over.
The remaining two boats had been captured by our five, and the seven were grouped together, waiting to be picked up.
"Look at that!" I cried involuntarily, pointing to the north-east.
The blot of smoke which indicated the _Macedonia's_ position had reappeared.
"Yes, I've been watching it," was Wolf Larsen's calm reply.

He measured the distance away to the fog-bank, and for an instant paused to feel the weight of the wind on his cheek.

"We'll make it, I think; but you can depend upon it that blessed brother of mine has twigged our little game and is just a-humping for us.