“She probably didn’t,” the first officer said. “The shock of the collision probably separated us, and a stray current did the rest. I only hope she keeps away from us!”
The first excitement following the crash having passed, it remained to make certain just how badly damaged the Sherman was and to ascertain the number of her crew and passengers who had been injured.
A hasty examination disclosed the fact that the hole in the side was well above the water line. Except in the event of a storm the transport would not leak. And, even in that case, the flooding of one more compartment would not be fatal.
In regard to the personal damage, though, the troopship had not come off so well. Several had been killed when the prow of the derelict had bit into the Sherman’s side, for several decks were involved in the damage done, and all along the rails, at the point of the crash, men had been standing. Doctors and nurses found themselves with many new casual cases to look after, as well as those with which they had started out. The dead, of course, were beyond help, and their poor, maimed bodies were tenderly laid aside. There were some of the injured whose recovery was in doubt, but others were only slightly hurt.
But military discipline, added to that of the naval officers, soon brought comparative order out of chaos, and then, or even before, boats were lowered to pick up any who might have been tossed by the collision into the sea.
One or two of these were picked up floating near the Sherman, and some had been hurt.
Just how many were missing could not be ascertained until the lists were gone over. But Ned lost no time after a hasty survey of those picked up in telling that Jerry, Bob and Professor Snodgrass, all of whom had been talking with him a moment before the crash, were not to be found.
“We’ll have a thorough search made,” said the ship’s captain, when Ned’s story was repeated. “If necessary I’ll keep boats cruising about all night.”