“She’s really slipping along,” remarked Joe.
“And with some speed, too,” added his mate.
“She answers the helm,” observed Tom, who was in temporary charge of the rudder, as he shifted the rough handle and noted a change in the course of the derelict.
“Well, yes, she does, but you can’t count on it much, captain,” spoke Abe. “That is to say we’ve got to keep more or less dead before the wind. No fancy tacking, sailing great circles, or anything like that. No frills; it’s plain sailing for us.”
“And that will do as well as any other I reckon,” put in Joe. “If we keep on dead ahead long enough we’re bound to fetch up somewhere or other, I lay you that, and you’ve sailed in these seas as much as I have, Abe Weldon. How about it?”
“Well, yes, I reckon so,” was the answer. “There’s islands a-plenty around here, if we can fetch one. And there ought to be more or less of vessels making in and out, for there is lots of trade with these same islands. So if we don’t hit an island we may be picked up, if we keep moving.”
“Then we’ll move, as long as there’s wind,” decided Tom with a laugh.
“Can I sail the ship?” asked little Jackie, abandoning his play of cutting out soldiers. “I want to steer.”
“You may help me,” promised Tom. “Come and help push.”
The rudder, if such it can be called, had been hung over the stern of the derelict. It was like some huge sweep, or oar on a raft, but it served the purpose. While Tom and his little charge were at this task, Joe and Abe further made secure the wooden deck house they had made. Professor Skeel helped them, but he was a moody assistant, and while the two sailors joked and sang he maintained a glum silence.