“Queer she backed out again,” commented a ship’s officer. “She might better have held her nose in the hole. That is, if it’s below the water line. But it isn’t,” he added quickly, as he leaned over the rail to take an observation. “We’re safe, so far. The lowest part of the hole is above the water line. But why doesn’t she let us know who she is? Why doesn’t she signal?”
It was queer, the absolute absence of sound from the other craft. Except for that gaping hole, it was as though she had been a figment of the imagination.
“She doesn’t whistle,” said the officer, who had looked over the side, “and I don’t hear any shouting. Surely she’s still near enough for us to hear from her. Are you sure it was a vessel?” he asked Ned. “Who else was here with you at the time?”
That question gave Ned a shock. That was it! Who had been with him at the time?
Why of course Jerry, Bob and Professor Snodgrass. And there was some one else—the sailor from whose person the little scientist had been about to remove a bug. It all came back to Ned now.
“Are you sure it was a vessel?” the officer asked again. “It may have been an iceberg. I’ve been bumped by them more than once.”
“It was a vessel,” answered Ned, and his mind was struggling with two matters. One was to answer the questions put to him, and the other was to try to think what had become of Bob, Jerry and the professor. He was confusing things.
“It was a vessel,” he went on. “I could see the camouflage paint on her. She slammed right into us and then backed off.”
“That’s queer,” murmured the officer. “If she was under steam she could blow her whistle, and even if she was disabled, as we are, she could ring a bell. But there isn’t a sound.”