FACING STARVATION
The fact that some of the other castaways had been sighted filled even
Ira Small with intense interest.
“How many of ’em?” he queried.
“I can’t make out exactly,” answered Fred. “But I think there are two,
and maybe three.”
“I see only two,” came from Jack. “There they go!”
The wreckage in the distance had disappeared behind a big wave. But
soon the Rover boys and the sailor saw it come into view again, and now
somewhat closer than before.
“There are two on it――that’s all!” exclaimed the young major. “One
standing up and the other sitting down.”
“Can you make out who they are?” questioned the sailor.
“I think the fellow standing up is Randy, but I’m not certain,” said
Fred. And then he set up a yell in which Jack joined.
For fully a quarter of an hour the two pieces of wreckage bobbed up
and down on the broad bosom of the Atlantic. Sometimes Jack and Fred
thought they were coming a little closer together, and then it looked
as if they might be drifting farther apart.
“It’s Randy! I’m sure of it!” exclaimed Fred, presently.
“You’re right!” answered his cousin. “And the fellow sitting down――I’m
almost positive――is Andy. He must be hurt, or he wouldn’t keep sitting
like that.”
“Maybe he got his leg hurt, jest like I did,” came mournfully from Ira
Small.
At the end of an anxious half hour, the two pieces of wreckage were
not over fifty yards apart. Jack and Fred could now see Randy and Andy
quite distinctly, and called to them.
“Can’t you swim over?” cried Jack. “We can’t come to you because Small
is hurt.”
[Illustration: “WE CAN’T COME TO YOU BECAUSE SMALL IS HURT.”]
“I’m hurt too,” answered Andy. “I got my ankle twisted when I fell out
of the motor boat.”
“I’ve got an idea,” called the young major, suddenly. “Maybe I can
carry a line over to you, and then we can tie the pieces of wreckage
together. We did that to another piece that bumped into us.”
Taking one of the ropes, Jack saw to it that one end was securely
fastened to the edge of the wreckage upon which he stood. Then
divesting himself of most of his clothing, he leaped into the ocean and
began to swim with might and main for the other improvised raft, which
was made up of part of a schooner’s stern.
As my old readers know, Jack had always been a good swimmer――in fact,
all of the Rover boys could swim well――but he soon discovered that
swimming in a river or a lake was an entirely different matter from
making headway in the rolling Atlantic. One minute he felt that he was
on the top of a high hill and the next that he was going down into a
bottomless hollow.
But he kept on vigorously, and soon came so close to the other piece of
wreckage that Randy could almost reach him.
“Be careful, Jack,” was the warning. “If you get struck in the head it
may knock you senseless.”
At last, after several minutes of maneuvering, the young major, with
his cousin’s assistance, managed to scramble up on the wreckage.
“Gee, I’m glad that’s over!” he panted. “It looked like an easy stunt
when I started; but it proved to be anything but that!”
“Say, don’t you know a shark might have come up after you?” questioned
Andy.
“I didn’t think of sharks until I was half way over,” was the reply.
“And as none appeared, there is no use of worrying about it. Is the
ankle very bad, Andy?”
“It’s so bad that I can’t stand on it. But never mind that, Jack. I’m
mighty glad to see you and Fred.”
“Do you know anything about Gif, Spouter and Ralph?” questioned Randy.
“I do not. None of us saw a thing of them after the boat turned over.”
“We saw them for a few minutes,” said Randy. “Gif had hold of a
spar that I grabbed, and Ralph and Spouter were on another piece of
wreckage. Then I slipped and went down, and when I came up I hit this
piece of wreckage and joined Andy.”
It was quickly decided to bring the pieces of wreckage together if it
could be accomplished in safety. Ira Small ordered Fred to stand by
with a small spar to use as a fender if necessary, and then called
similar directions to Randy. Then Jack watched his chance and pulled in
on the line.
For several minutes matters looked rather serious as the bits of
wreckage came together with a crash, then swept apart and came together
with another crash. But finally several pieces of rope were lashed
fast under Ira Small’s directions, and then Randy and Jack were able to
assist Andy to a place on the blankets beside the sailor.
“Now lash all the wreckage together as tight as you possibly kin,” said
Ira Small. “Then we’ll have a purty respectable kind of a raft to float
around on. I kin tell you, this wreckage is a God-send to us,” he went
on solemnly. “If it hadn’t been fur it, we’d all be at the bottom of
the ocean by this time.”
“Yes, but if it were not for the wreckage, the motor boat wouldn’t have
been smashed,” put in Andy.
“Well, lad, I s’pose that’s so, too,” admitted Ira Small, nodding his
head gravely.
Now that they were together once more, the four Rover boys felt
somewhat better. Yet they continued to worry over the disappearance of
their three chums.
“It will certainly be an awful thing if they don’t show up,” remarked
Randy. “Just think of how their folks will feel.”
“Yes, and think how we’ll feel!” came from Fred, and his face showed
his downheartedness.
Andy and Randy brought with them one thing which was a little comfort.
On their wreckage they had found a piece of sail several yards square,
and during the rain they had caught a few cupfuls of water. From this,
as the morning wore on, each took a sip.
It was found that Andy’s ankle was much swollen. The other boys bathed
it for him and then bound it up with a strip of the sailcloth. They
performed the same services for Ira Small.
“We’re in the sick-bay, lad,” said the lanky sailor dubiously to Andy.
“I reckon we’ve got to make the best of it. Howsomever, luck’s been
with us so far, an’ mebby luck’ll see us through.”
Slowly the afternoon wore away. By this time all aboard the wreckage
were hungry, but the most that anybody could offer was a water-soaked
package of chewing gum which Andy found in a pocket of his jacket.
“I think we’ll find that too salty to chew, Andy,” said Jack. “I
wouldn’t touch it. It will make you thirstier than ever.” So the
water-soaked chewing gum went unused.
At last night came on. So long as it was light, everybody aboard the
wreckage kept his eyes on the alert for some sign of the other three
boys and for some craft that might pick them up.
“Gee, I wouldn’t care even if the old _Hildegarde_ hove in sight,” said
Randy, at last. “If we were on board that tub, we’d at least have
something to eat and to drink and a place to sleep.”
“No more o’ that schooner fur me!” cried Ira Small. “I’d rather jump in
the ocean than go aboard her ag’in,” and his eyes flashed angrily.
When night settled down they found themselves absolutely alone on that
part of the wide ocean. Even the bits of wreckage which had surrounded
them had disappeared. Nothing was to be seen on every side but the
heaving waters.
“Gosh, if we ever get off of this and on dry land once more, I won’t
want to look at the ocean again for years,” murmured Randy.
“I’ll be like the fellow who got seasick and said the next boat he’d
take would be a Pullman car,” put in Andy, with a faint grin.
In such a perilous position, with the wreckage heaving up and down
on the water, sleep was almost out of the question. Occasionally one
or another would doze off, to awaken with a start as the uncertain
flooring beneath him gave an extra lurch or an ominous crack. They
did not know whether the ropes they had used would hold the wreckage
together. If it parted, they might at any instant find themselves again
floundering around in the ocean.
Before morning came, the ominous clouds began to gather once more, and
now the wind came up in fitful gusts. In a little while the wreckage
was bobbing up and down and creaking fitfully.
“If only we had a few more strong ropes,” said Ira Small. “Those we
have are good enough if the weather stays calm, but I’m afraid a heavy
storm would prove too much of a strain on ’em.”
The day proved one of alarming uncertainty. The heavy clouds soon
brought on more rain, and the wind became almost as violent as it had
been the day before. Anxiously all of the boys and the lanky sailor
watched the ropes that held the wreckage together.
“Well, anyway, we can get a drink out of this, maybe,” said Randy, and
he and the others spread the canvas so that they might catch as much of
the rain as possible.
They swallowed the liquid eagerly. It did not help their hunger, but it
cut off that awful thirst which was little short of maddening.
Thus another night was spent on the wreckage. By this time their hunger
had become acute. Andy and the old sailor suffered the most, because of
their hurts.
“Gee, I can’t stand this much longer, Randy,” said Andy to his twin, at
last. “I feel as if I was getting sick all over.”
“I’m sorry, Andy, that I can’t do anything more for you,” was the
brotherly response. “But there isn’t a thing here to work with.”
“Oh, I know that! It’s not your fault, Randy,” and Andy said no more.
After a little while no one seemed to feel like talking. A gaunt
spectre arose in the mind of every one on the wreckage――the spectre of
Starvation. With nothing to eat, how much longer could they live?
“Maybe we would have been better off if we had gone down in the first
place,” thought Jack. “It’s better to die quickly than to die by
inches.”