They had found lanterns and lighted them to give a cheerful glow to the cabin. The electric service was, of course, out of commission with the engines stopped, but provision had been made for auxiliary oil lighting, and it was no worse than conditions had been on all ships before the electric light was discovered.
“Do you think we ought to stand watch and watch all night?” asked Bob, looking at Jerry. “We might sight the Sherman or some other vessel, you know.”
“I don’t see what good it would do,” replied the tall lad. “If we did sight the Sherman we couldn’t move toward her, and unless her engines have been put in commission she couldn’t reach us. We could only drift along and look at one another. And I don’t believe we’ll sight the Sherman.”
“Do you mean she’s sunk?” asked Bob in a low voice, as he thought of Ned still, in all probability, left on board.
“No, not exactly that,” Jerry answered. “She has too many watertight compartments to sink unless she was blown all apart, and I don’t believe that has happened. But I think we must have gotten into two widely separated ocean currents. One is carrying us one way and the other is taking the Sherman along.”
“That’s about the way of it,” chimed in Judd.
“But what about seeing some other vessel?” asked Bob. “I mean one that isn’t disabled and that could take us off.”
“Well, of course, we might see one if we took turns standing watch through the night,” admitted Jerry. “But we have our distress signal lamps set, and any vessel sighting them will put for us at once.”
“Well, all right, if you think that there’s no use worrying,” Bob agreed. “I didn’t fancy standing a night trick myself, but if it had to be done——”
“I don’t think it’s necessary, boys,” said Judd. “As Jerry Hopkins says, if any vessel sees our lights she’ll be bound to come close and investigate.”