“Are there any chances of us being picked up?” Tom inquired.
“Oh, yes, plenty of chances,” answered Abe. “But you can’t tell how long it will be before that happens. Still we can’t do anything but wait.”
“Maybe one of the lifeboats will sight us,” suggested our hero, as he moved a bit so that Jackie would rest easier.
“Maybe, but hardly. They’ll probably row toward the nearest land,” suggested Joe.
“And where might that be?” inquired Tom.
“Well, we were about three days from the Hawaiian Islands, at the rate we were going in the Silver Star,” went on Joe, “but in the storm I guess we were pretty well blown out of our course. Probably now we’re some distance to the east of ’em now, and maybe below ’em, for all I can tell. But if we can make a southwest course we’re bound to fetch up at some island sooner or later, if we’re not picked up by some vessel in the meanwhile.”
“Oh, then we’re not so badly off,” commented Tom.
“It might be worse,” agreed Joe. “Well, the storm’s over, and it’ll soon be daylight I reckon.”
The lightning had ceased, and the thunder was only distantly rumbling. It was quite dark, and the derelict drifted on with its passengers staring moodily out into the blackness—all but Jackie, who was in happy dreamland.