Читать книгу The Radio Boys with the Iceberg Patrol; Or, Making safe the ocean lanes онлайн

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“Good work!” commended the still steady voice. “Get hold of the man nearest you.”

They took hold of one of the men, who, though dazed, was able partly to help himself, and dragged him out. Then a third man staggered out, assisted by the eager hands of the boys. Following him, the last occupant emerged.

At a glance, the boys knew that he was the owner of the voice.

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Why the Radio Boys knew that this man had spoken the words that had made them wonder at his calmness, they could not have told. But they had no doubt of the fact.

There was something about him that told of long habit of commanding others. And there was more than that. They could see that he was a man who had learned to command himself—the most difficult feat of all.

He was tall and spare and appeared to be about forty years of age. His face was marked with lines that bespoke discipline and character. His eyes were keen and had the look of those that have been accustomed to peer into distant spaces. They were eyes that could be stern and unflinching, and yet with tiny creases at the sides that showed they could twinkle with friendliness and good fellowship.