“But can’t we be put off on some vessel that’s bound inshore?” asked Bob.
“Possibly you can,” was the reply. “But with this fog that’s hanging heavy on the sea, it may be days before we can speak a vessel, and, in the meantime, we’ll be getting farther and farther from shore.”
“But you have a radio on board, haven’t you?” asked Joe, as he and the others digested this information.
“Sure thing,” replied the ensign. “All the navy vessels are equipped with that now. They’d about as soon think of going to sea without a crew as they would without wireless.”
“Well, that’s all right then,” said Bob, with a sigh of relief. “As long as we can get in touch with our folks and let them know we’re safe, I, for one, don’t care how long we stay here. In fact, it will be a good deal of a lark.”
The ensign, who was still young enough to be in sympathy with their viewpoint, smiled at their enthusiasm, and went off to attend to a matter of duty, promising to return when they had finished their meal and show them their sleeping quarters.
What the boys did to the copious and appetizing meal set before them was, Joe said, “a sin and a shame.” The sharp sea air had whetted their appetites, which were keen enough without that stimulus, and they made a clean sweep of the food, to the manifest satisfaction of the steward who waited on them and who was kept busy replenishing their plates and coffee cups. When they had finished, all their alarm and hardships had been forgotten, and they were thoroughly at peace with the world.
“Uncle Sam feeds his people well, if that meal was a sample,” ejaculated Jimmy, who had already surreptitiously been compelled to undo two buttons of his vest.
“I’ll tell the world,” agreed Herb, who, though he had not quite kept pace with Jimmy, had come in a close second.
“A life on the bounding wave has a good deal to recommend it,” affirmed Bob.