Warmly clad, though somewhat regretting that he was no longer in Uncle Sam’s uniform, Jerry’s next thought was of getting something to eat.
“And I only wish old Bob and Ned were here with me to help get up a meal—provided I can find any!” mused the lad. “Wonder what happened to them. Were they tossed overboard as I was? Or did the Sherman sink? That can hardly have happened, though, or I’d have heard more of a commotion—fellows shouting and so on. Guess she’s all right, but it’s mighty queer I’m the only one on board here. What became of Professor Snodgrass? And what was he doing on board, and that other queer duck—le cochon?”
Jerry paused to reflect a moment, going hastily over in his mind all that had happened since he had been standing in the fog on the deck of the transport conversing with his friends.
“Seems like a week ago, and yet it wasn’t more than two hours,” he decided. “Well, now for the grub—if there is any!”
Jerry did not need to be told the location of the galley and pantry. He found the place where the ship’s food was prepared, but, like the cabins, the deck, and the engine room—it was drearily empty. There was a stock of dry wood and some coal near the galley stove, however, and finding matches in a tin box, Jerry soon had a blaze.
“Feels mighty good, too,” he decided as he rubbed his hands over the fast-warming stove. “Now if I can get something to eat I’ll feel like a real passenger.”
There was, as the lad soon discovered, enough food on board to last a long while. Much had been hastily taken away—that was evident—but plenty remained.
Whether the passengers and crew had filled the boats before leaving what they believed to be a sinking ship, or whether the Germans had looted the Altaire, Jerry could not determine.
However, he found some tins of pilot biscuit, some canned bacon, and enough coffee to last him a year, he thought. There was condensed milk, also, and plenty of sugar, though how the Germans overlooked that—providing they had been the marauders—it was hard to say.
Moving quickly about, Jerry soon had some bacon sizzling on the stove, its aroma mingling with that of the coffee. Having unearthed a tin of preserved butter, Jerry set himself a table. Then, surveying the work of his hands, he exclaimed: