At the same moment Stoker Bradley, who sat next to Kunz, and who only a moment before had offered the German a cigarette, whipped out a monkey wrench from his coverall jacket and smashed in the young Nazi's head. What a moment before had been a party of shipwrecked sailors bobbing companionably over the swell was suddenly a waving sea of arms and legs as the occupants of each frail craft locked in deadly combat, oblivious to all about them.
The rumpus had gone on for ten minutes when it was brought to a sudden panting hush. The Hecates, who were gradually prevailing in each raft, raised their eyes to the source of a new sound.
"And just what is going on here?" the unmistakably English voice asked. Then again the loud-hailer blared as, with engines churning in reverse, the British destroyer lay stopped in the swell. "HMS Marabout, at your service. Now look lively there, and get aboard as quickly as you can. Acheron and Mastiff are sinking a German raider just over the horizon. We want to see the fun too."