“But how did you get aboard this derelict?” asked Tom.
“Our raft hit it, after we’d been afloat some time, and I says to Joe that we’d better take to it, seeing as how it was bigger than the raft. So we transferred our keg of water to it, and what little grub we had, and climbed on.”
“Then we found the boy,” supplemented Joe.
“That’s right, then we found the boy,” agreed Abe. “I see something awash near the bow of this old craft, and I made a grab for it, thinking it might be more grub. But it wasn’t. It was part of a lifeboat, with some life preservers jammed under the thwart. I pulled it up, and there was this kid, sort of fastened by the life preserver straps. At first I thought he was gone, but I listened close, and heard his breathing.
“We got the water out of him, as best we could, and then he began to cry. He cried for his daddy something pitiful, and nobody knows where his daddy is,” he added softly.
“Then he called for Tom Fairfield,” added Joe.
“Yes,” assented Abe, “he cried for you. And it seems sort of Providential-like that you should come swimming along. How did you do it, Tom?”
“It just happened. I rolled off the deck when the second crash came, and, when I came up I swam for it. I called for help as I saw a lifeboat rowing away, but they didn’t hear me. Then I swam until I got this life-ring, and then—well I saw the derelict and made for that.”
“And it’s a good thing you did,” commented Joe. “For Abe nor I don’t know the first thing about taking care of kids. I’m glad you come.”
“So am I,” grunted Abe.