“I hope to secure some valuable data from this specimen as to the possible effect of the discharge of depth bombs on inhabitants of the sea,” the professor went on. “If I only had some dry note paper!” he sighed, as he took a sodden mass from his wet garments.
“You’re lucky to be as high and as dry as you are, sir!” exclaimed the sailor Judd. “I count myself lucky to have met with this raft. All I had, at first, was a bit of wood hardly enough to kindle a fire. This is much better.”
“Oh, this is fine,” agreed the professor.
“Speaking of fires,” ventured Bob, “did you say there was something to eat on board?” and he looked suggestively at the closed box which formed the highest part of the life raft.
“This is supposed to contain food and water,” remarked Judd, as he tapped the compartment in question. “Shall I open it?”
“I should say so!” exclaimed the stout lad. “Even a cold snack would taste good.”
“And possibly we might find some dry paper in there on which I could make a few notes.” The professor spoke wistfully. “I have the pencil,” he added, as he drew one from his wet and sodden garments.
“We’ll soon see,” said the sailor. “There’s no need of rowing just now,” he added to Bob, who had one of the oars in his hands. “We aren’t in any danger of running into any one or of getting anywhere, either. We can see what we’ve got to eat and then start to navigate—that is, we can row and see where we get.”
“Don’t you think we ought to see if we can find the Sherman?” asked Bob. “She ought to be somewhere around here,” and he gazed into the fog that still surrounded them.
“Not much use trying,” declared the sailor. “I shouted until my throat ached, and never a word in answer did I get. I don’t know what happened to the transport after I left it, but I couldn’t get sight of her.”