He made himself up a berth in what he decided was the captain’s cabin, though all papers and everything else to indicate specific ownership had been removed. Jerry hung up his own wet clothes to dry, as he intended donning his uniform as soon as it was in shape to wear.
“I haven’t been discharged yet,” he reasoned; “and if any of the dirty Germans show up I want to show ’em who I am!”
Having made up his berth, Jerry laid out some food he intended to cook when supper time came, and then, having banked the fire in the galley stove, he went up on deck again. The fog was still heavy, and he could see not much further than the width of the deck of the derelict. But he felt that this was a good opportunity for making an investigation of the craft, to decide, if possible, what character of ship she had been.
With his knowledge of vessels it did not take Jerry long to make up his mind that the Altaire had been a tramp freighter, engaged in whatever trade she could pick up. He did not investigate the cargo holds, but they seemed partly filled with boxes and cases. Some had been broken out and carried bodily away. Others were strewn about below decks, the contents, partly removed, of a few giving evidence that goods of iron, steel, rubber, clothing, farm implements, and household appliances had made up the manifest.
“I guess the Germans wish they could have taken the whole cargo,” mused Jerry, as he looked at the broken cases. “Their subs are limited, however. Well, if I could get this ship and her cargo to some port I could make a lot of money.”
That was impossible, as he knew, unaided as he was. His next care was to make as thorough an inspection of the craft as was possible, and this revealed the important fact that she was not leaking or sinking.
“If the Germans thought they put her out of business they made a mistake,” Jerry decided. “Unless they left her with time bombs aboard, which haven’t gone off yet.”
This thought gave him a fright, and he looked as carefully as he could in what he thought the most likely places to find such fiendish devices. He saw nothing alarming, however.
The engine room was in confusion, and certain parts of the machinery were broken. But whether these were vital parts Jerry did not stop to determine. He knew that without help he could not hope to operate the engines anyhow; and without a boiler room gang to get up steam, even the most perfect engine would not run for the best expert in existence.
“I might hoist some sort of sail,” mused the lone navigator. “I suppose I can do that. And I ought to set some sort of signal. This fog can’t last forever, and if any ship passes me I want those on board to know I’m in need of help. I’ll go up and see what I can manage.”