“Is the ship badly hurt?” ventured Joe, as Bob sprang to his key.
“Don’t know yet,” returned the ensign. “This is a precautionary measure. An examination is being made of the hull. We know that some of the plates are cracked, for water is coming in.”
“Anybody hurt when the top of the berg broke off?” questioned Herb.
“Two men hit by flying chunks,” was the answer. “One had his arm broken. Doctor attending to them. Lucky the whole mass didn’t hit the ship. Would have crushed it like an eggshell.”
He hurried off. Bob, in the meantime, had been flinging out the S. O. S. messages through the ether, describing the plight of the ship and giving her exact position.
Again and again he sent the messages abroad, but for some time received no answer. Then messages began to come at intervals, but none of them from ships near by. It would take many hours for help to come from these, though the promise was made that they would make the fastest time possible.
“Perhaps we’ll have to take to the boats,” conjectured Jimmy.
“That’s a possibility,” admitted Joe.
“I’m not hankering for any more experiences in an open boat,” put in Herb. “The one I had was enough for a lifetime. I’m no glutton.”
“We might be afloat for days with no one knowing where to look for us,” said Jimmy, somberly.