“How did you come to get in the boat?” asked Tom.
“I hardly know. There was so much confusion. I came up on deck after the crash, and waited for the order to get into the boat. Some one helped me in. I was the only one in it when the second crash came, and suddenly the boat seemed to fall into the sea. I received a blow on the head, and then I knew no more until I found myself aboard this derelict. I suppose I must thank you for saving my life.”
“Not at all. It was Joe who swam out and brought in your boat. I am sorry for you. We will say no more about it. There is a hard enough task ahead of us as it is, to save ourselves.”
“Do you think we can?”
“I don’t know. It all depends on whether we can get to an island where the natives will be friendly enough to give us aid, or if we are picked up by some vessel. We will hope for the best. We have food and water, but not much of a craft under us. However, since your boat is here, possibly we can make some kind of a structure to shelter us.”
The two sailors, with the piece of canvas that had been found in the lifeboat, and with some pieces of lumber which they managed to chop out of the derelict, were constructing a shelter on the after portion of the wreck—on the highest part.
“Oh, Tom!” called Jackie, who sat beneath this improvised awning, “come under my tent!”
“I will,” answered our hero with a smile.
“And bring me something to eat,” commanded Jackie. “I’m hungry. I want my breakfast, and I want my daddy. When will he come, Tom Fairfield?”