“Bug! Lose the bug! Sure, and the man’s plumb daft!” Bob heard the old salt mutter.
[CHAPTER XIX]
A LONE NAVIGATOR
Jerry Hopkins stood in a pool of sea water on the deck of the derelict to which he had climbed after having been immersed in the ocean for more than an hour. Every seam of his garments seemed to spew out a little puddle of dampness, and he said afterward that he felt not unlike a sponge. But for the time being, wonder at his new situation and thankfulness that he was on something more substantial than a wave overpowered every other emotion.
“Well, I’m here, but where am I?” mused Jerry. “I wonder what vessel this is and how long she will remain afloat? Anyhow, if she does go under I can make a raft of something to keep afloat on. This isn’t half bad. Now let’s see where I’m at!”
Jerry knew that the best thing for him to do was to get some dry clothes on, provided he could find any, or, if not, to get his wet ones off and let them dry. The weather was cold and damp, and the fog still prevailed, so much so that he could only see part of the deck of the derelict at a time.
The refugee also felt the need of food and something hot to drink, for though it was not winter his immersion in the sea, coupled to the fact that the last few days had been damp, cold ones, had not served to raise his vitality.
“But first I’m going to see if any one else is on board,” mused Jerry, as he moved about, first, however, removing his soaked coat and trousers. His shoes he had loosed and let drop into the ocean soon after he began swimming.
“This is as good as a bathing suit, in case I meet any one,” mused the lad, as he glanced down at his underwear. “And I can’t stand those wet things. There must be bunks aboard, if nothing else, and I can crawl into one after a bit. But first I’m going to look about.”