And he did. Sailors, marines, and soldiers formed searching parties in lifeboats, but they were handicapped by the fog. They dared not go far away from the Sherman for fear of being lost themselves, and their shouts brought no response. Some floating wreckage was picked up, part of it from the troopship and some from the unknown derelict. “Unknown” because nothing that was found afloat after the crash disclosed her identity.
“But what has become of Jerry, Bob and the professor?” wondered Ned. “They were with me. Their bodies are not among the dead—I’m thankful for that—nor are they in the list of wounded. They weren’t picked up by the boats. But where are they?”
And as Ned wondered and wondered the fearful conviction was borne to him that his three friends must have been injured or killed by the crash and have been flung into the sea, their bodies at once sinking.
[CHAPTER XVIII]
A QUEER CRAFT
Bob Baker and Professor Snodgrass struck the water at the same moment, and side by side. They plunged downward together and came up at the same time. And then, with seemingly the same thought, they both struck out for a bit of wreckage. They reached this—a jagged mass of wood which was large enough to partially support them in the water.
Bob was, because of his stoutness, rather fortunate in the water. He floated well, and he was by no means a bad swimmer. As for Professor Snodgrass, in spite of his preoccupation at times, he had mastered the art of keeping himself afloat in the water, and was really well able to look out for himself. So he had not much difficulty.
“Are you hurt, Professor?” gasped Bob, as soon as he had cleared his eyes and mouth of some of the salty water that had entered.
“I—I don’t seem to be,” gasped the little scientist. “This was rather unfortunate, wasn’t it?”