THREE ON A RAFT
Slowly, owing to its size and clumsy, though eminently safe,
construction, the life raft containing the sailor approached the bit of
wreckage that supported Bob Baker and Professor Snodgrass.
“Are you all right?” the sailor called to them, and his voice seemed
happy and jolly in spite of his situation.
“As right as can be,” responded Bob. “We’ll be better when we get on
board with you, though. That is, if there’s room.”
“Sure, there’s plenty of room!” the old salt asserted. “And there’s
stuff to eat and drink here, though I haven’t time to get at it. Steady
now, and I’ll have you on board in another minute or two.”
He navigated his queer craft until he had brought it alongside the mass
of wreckage, and in a few minutes more, Bob and the professor were
safely on board. The change was a most welcome one, since the life raft
rode high in the water, and they could sit out of reach of the waves,
at least while the sea was calm. In a storm it would be another matter,
but they did not think of this just then.
“Now we’ll paddle away from that bit of jagged timber,” said the
sailor. “It won’t do to get rammed with that, or we may get a hole
stove in one of our air tanks. That’d be bad!”
He was about to fend off the rude craft that had saved the lives of Bob
and Professor Snodgrass when the latter uttered a cry.
“Wait a minute!” he begged. “My clothes! I’ve got a pencil in one
pocket, and some paper. After I dry it out I can make notes on this new
kind of crab I’ve found in this seaweed. I want to get my clothes.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” decided Bob. “I’ll get mine, too. May have
a chance to use ’em later on.”
It did not take long to haul aboard the raft the bundles of wet
clothing from the cracks in the mass of wreckage, and then Bob, taking
an oar, helped the sailor shove off.
“Now we’re properly afloat, we’d better think what we’re going to do,”
suggested the old salt. “I’m no navigator. Beno Judd is my name, and I
generally write ‘A. B.’ after it when I sign papers. Can either of you
gentlemen navigate?”
“I can’t,” confessed Bob, as he told his own name and that of his
scientific friend. “Perhaps the professor may be able to help us.”
“Help you do what?” asked Professor Snodgrass, looking up from his
occupation of investigating the seaweed.
“Navigate,” answered Bob. “Mr. Judd, this sailor, says he doesn’t know
anything about it.”
“Neither do I,” admitted the professor. “But why do we want to
navigate? We’re afloat, aren’t we? And we’re comparatively dry now, or
will be soon. This bunch of seaweed will keep me occupied for several
days, and----”
He paused to look closely at the sailor.
“What did you do with it?” he asked quickly.
“With what?”
“That bug.”
“Well, maybe the poor thing died of fright, or was drowned, sir,” was
the answer, given with just the trace of a smile. “I went overboard
when you did, sir, and that’s all I know.”
“Too bad,” mused the professor. “But perhaps sometime I may find
another on you. At any rate I have this crab, and a most beautiful
specimen it is.”
As he spoke he held up a squirming creature, which, as Bob said later,
never would have taken a prize, even at a bulldog show.
“I hope to secure some valuable data from this specimen as to the
possible effect of the discharge of depth bombs on inhabitants of the
sea,” the professor went on. “If I only had some dry note paper!” he
sighed, as he took a sodden mass from his wet garments.
“You’re lucky to be as high and as dry as you are, sir!” exclaimed the
sailor Judd. “I count myself lucky to have met with this raft. All I
had, at first, was a bit of wood hardly enough to kindle a fire. This
is much better.”
“Oh, this is fine,” agreed the professor.
“Speaking of fires,” ventured Bob, “did you say there was something
to eat on board?” and he looked suggestively at the closed box which
formed the highest part of the life raft.
“This is supposed to contain food and water,” remarked Judd, as he
tapped the compartment in question. “Shall I open it?”
“I should say so!” exclaimed the stout lad. “Even a cold snack would
taste good.”
“And possibly we might find some dry paper in there on which I could
make a few notes.” The professor spoke wistfully. “I have the pencil,”
he added, as he drew one from his wet and sodden garments.
“We’ll soon see,” said the sailor. “There’s no need of rowing just
now,” he added to Bob, who had one of the oars in his hands. “We aren’t
in any danger of running into any one or of getting anywhere, either.
We can see what we’ve got to eat and then start to navigate--that is,
we can row and see where we get.”
“Don’t you think we ought to see if we can find the _Sherman_?” asked
Bob. “She ought to be somewhere around here,” and he gazed into the fog
that still surrounded them.
“Not much use trying,” declared the sailor. “I shouted until my throat
ached, and never a word in answer did I get. I don’t know what happened
to the transport after I left it, but I couldn’t get sight of her.”
He turned to open the case that was placed amidships of the life raft.
It was tightly closed by a catch that could be easily opened when one
knew how, and Judd seemed to know.
“Is this life raft from the _Sherman_?” asked Bob. “Did they throw it
over when the crash came?”
“It isn’t one from the transport,” the sailor answered. “It’s like
some we carried, though. This one is from the steamer _Altaire_, and I
shouldn’t wonder but what that was the derelict that crashed into us.”
“The _Altaire_!” murmured Bob. “I wonder if we’ll ever see her again.
I’ve always wanted to see a derelict.”
“Well, I’d rather see one at a distance, if they’re going to act as
this one did,” remarked Professor Snodgrass. “Though I suppose I
shouldn’t find fault, as I might never have discovered this crab if
I had not gone overboard. The only thing that worries me, though, is
that I didn’t get that sea-leech. That’s what was on you,” he added to
the sailor. “A sea-leech is one of the rarest specimens of the genus
_Hirudo_, and this was the _Hirudo aqua marinis_, quite different from
the _Hirudo medicinalis_. What I was particularly interested in was to
observe whether the sea-leech had the same three small white teeth with
serrated edges which cause the peculiar triradiated wound as has the
_Hirudo medicinalis_.”
Judd stared in amazement.
“Well, if it’s all the same to you,” said Bob, with a smile, “I’d like
to try my teeth on some of the food in that box.”
“All right, my boy! I’m with you!” agreed the professor. “I feel a bit
hungry myself.”
Judd opened the locker, and to the delight of the three on the raft it
was well filled. There was preserved food enough to last them perhaps
a week, and a large cask of fresh water--that is, it was comparatively
fresh, for no one could say how long the raft had been adrift.
“But it can’t have been long,” asserted the old salt. “My opinion
is that the life raft was jarred off the derelict when she hit us.
Otherwise it wouldn’t have been floating in the place where we struck
the water. Besides, there isn’t any growth or mass of seaweed and
barnacles on it as there would be if it had been long in the water.”
“Well, we ought to be thankful for what we have,” said Bob, with a
sigh, as he munched some sea biscuit and a bit of corned beef, a can of
which the sailor opened. “This is a good deal better off than I thought
we’d be a while back. How about it, Professor Snodgrass?”
“You are right,” was the answer from the little scientist. “And, Bob,
don’t destroy any wrapping paper. I can use the blank side for making
notes.”
This he proceeded to do, taking the crab as his first specimen, though
he declared that the bunch of seaweed, which he had laid aside,
contained much else that would hold his attention later.
“Well, now let’s consider what’s best to do,” said Bob, when they had
made a fairly substantial meal, washing it down with the water which,
though not exactly as good as that from a faucet or a well, was very
acceptable.
“Which way shall we row?” asked the sailor. “If you gentlemen will tell
me how to navigate I’ll be only too willing.”
“I’ll do my share of rowing,” agreed Bob. “But that’s the
question--which way shall we row?”
“Or sail,” added Judd.
“Sail!” exclaimed the stout lad. “Can we sail?”
“Oh, yes, there’s a small mast and sail here,” and the seaman pointed
out where it was fastened to the raft. “We can hoist the sail, but
there’s no wind to fill it.”
This was true enough. The fog still enveloped them, and it needed a
wind to carry away this concealing vapor. It hid them from view even
as it hid from them the possible location of the _Sherman_ and the
derelict.
“Well, let’s hoist the sail, anyhow,” suggested Bob. “Then it will
be ready when the wind does come, and if there are any small boats
cruising around looking for us, or if any other ships get in this
neighborhood, they can see us more easily if we have the sail up.”
“You’re right,” agreed the sailor. “Up she goes.”
As has been remarked, the raft, on which the three now were, consisted
of two large hollow steel cylinders. Between them was a raised
framework, and this, in addition to holding the box of food, contained
a compartment for the oars and for a small sail. The mast for the
latter was soon stepped in the hole provided for it. It was braced by
ropes, and the sail hoisted.
“Now we’re all ready for a voyage!” cried Bob, more gaily than he could
have talked an hour before.
For some little time they drifted on, the sail hanging idly at the
mast, and the fog lazily swirling around them. Then, suddenly, there
came a puff of wind. They all felt it at once.
“A breeze!” cried the sailor.
“Yes, and look!” cried Bob. “There’s the _Sherman_!”
He pointed to what seemed an opening torn in the veil of fog, and all
three had a glimpse of the camouflaged side of some vessel. Then, as
the wind bellied out the sail, the fog shut in again, and it was as if
a blank, white wall confronted them.