“We don’t really know yet just how serious the damage is,” replied Pearsall. “We rammed a lumber schooner, and tore away a good part of our bow. The forward compartment of the hold is flooded, but the bulkhead seems to be holding, and if it does, I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger, provided a storm doesn’t come up before we can get to the nearest port. We’ve sent out distress calls, just the same, and will probably get an answer soon. I rather imagine we’ll pull through all right, but a good deal depends on that water-tight bulkhead. If that holds, all right, if not—well, all wrong, I guess,” and he shrugged his shoulders.
“How about the ship that we collided with?” asked Mr. Strong. “That must be damaged worse than we are.”
“She’s pretty well stove in,” answered the wireless man. “But the ship is loaded with lumber, so she can’t very well sink. We’ll probably stand by until daylight, anyway, and then it will be possible to see just how much damage has been done to both vessels.”
“When the crash came, the first thought that entered my head was that we must have hit an iceberg,” said Herb. “I’ve heard so much lately about icebergs and the iceberg patrol that I naturally thought that was what had happened now.”
“That might have been, easily enough,” said Pearsall. “Up in this part of the world no ship is safe from that menace, even in mid-summer. In fact, the danger, in a sense, is greater then, because nobody is really expecting such a thing, and there aren’t as many precautions taken as in the springtime. Just after the winter ice has broken up is a ticklish time to navigate in northern waters, I can tell you.
“The chances are,” he continued, after a moment, “that we can make port without any outside assistance.”
“Yes, but there is also a chance that we can’t,” Mr. Strong pointed out. “And that’s a chance we can’t afford to take. Safety first is a good motto anywhere, but it’s especially good at sea.”
The fact was, that Pearsall had been so long at sea and was so used to the dangers of a seafaring life that he perhaps underrated the peril of the situation in which they were now placed. The Radio Boys stayed with him a short while longer, and then returned to the deck.
The passengers had calmed down somewhat, under the reassuring reports of the officers, though very few had returned to their staterooms, but remained huddled in little groups about the deck, trying vainly to pierce the enshrouding blanket of fog that curled and eddied about the ship. Many anxious glances were directed toward the lifeboats, which had been provisioned and were ready to be lowered if necessary. Two or three sailors, with an officer in charge, stood ready at the falls, and no precaution had been neglected should worst come to worst and the ship have to be abandoned.
“I don’t want to be a calamity howler,” said Joe to Bob, in a low voice, that could not be overheard by the other passengers. “But it seems to me that the ship is more down by the bow than it was when we first came on deck after the crash. Maybe my imagination is only playing tricks on me, though. How does it seem to you?”