Irving Hancock

“ Line after line of the other craft came into sight, every new glimpse confirming the suspicion that the stranger was the Sumatran yacht.
"If our suspicions are right," announced Carrick, in a steady voice, "no man now on this boat has more than a half an hour of life left."
"I've said me prayers already," retorted Rourke, "so I have a free hand for me duties. But I'm sorry for the boys undher me."
Fleming said nothing, though he puffed his pipe with a slight acceleration of speed. ”

“ At reduced speed the yacht proceeded. At a quarter of ten, when she lay to, the Vulcan was not more than half a mile from the shore. Low, sloping hills rose from the beach. Seen through the night glasses, these slopes were covered with short, dense growths of what looked like scrub oak.
No sooner had the Vulcan lain to than a boat was lowered, Kerrigan being this time in charge.
"Look to your weapon," muttered Carrick. "Take two extra magazine loads with you and a full box of cartridges."
"I have them on me," Fleming answered. ”

“ Carrick and Fleming slipped over the side. Amid cheers from the tug's crew the boat slipped away. A few minutes later the Hound and the chemist signaled Rourke from the starboard rail of the Vulcan.
"'Twas their own boat, thin," muttered Rourke. "Good luck to thim—the best. Misther Scanlon, the course is straight back to San Diego."
Amid a din of whistles the two craft parted company, the Vulcan skimming speedily south.
Carrick had, indeed, found himself among friends. Captain Mulford was a bluff, hearty skipper. His two mates, Gray and Kerrigan, were keen-looking young men. ”