“Wounded men first in the boats!”
“Right!” sang out a number of hearty voices, and it was evident there would be no terrible scenes should it become necessary to abandon ship. And this dire thought was uppermost in the minds of all.
It was also evident that the Sherman had received an injury much more serious than the previous one that had sent her back to the dock for repairs to the machinery which had been so quickly made. She had come to a stop now in the darkness on the broad ocean, and was slowly heaving to the swell. There was also a slight list to one side, its cause unknown to the soldiers who, in response to the commands of their officers, were moving in orderly array to safety stations.
“Well, our adventures are keeping up,” said Jerry in a low voice to his two chums when they had reached their boat station and stood waiting for further orders. “But I didn’t quite bargain for this.”
“Me, either,” commented Ned.
“Do you think the old boat will go down?” asked Bob.
“No telling,” Jerry answered. “It looks pretty serious, or they wouldn’t get us all up here this way. They’re bringing up the wounded now.”
As he spoke it could be seen that doctors, nurses, and stretcher-bearers were appearing on deck with the casualty cases. And to the credit of the unfortunate ones be it said that they remained quiet, and some even laughed and joked, though they must have known, in case of the necessity for abandoning ship and taking to the small boats, that their chances of being saved were infinitely smaller than those of able-bodied men. But they were Uncle Sam’s boys, and that is enough to say.
Naturally, on all sides, the questions asked were: