Another cheer punctuated the closing remarks, and then followed a nerve-racking time. There was nothing to be done except to wait for the conclusion of the investigation of the ship’s officers. They were below now, seeking to learn how badly damaged were the craft’s vitals.
“Well, this is worse and more of it,” remarked Bob, as he began to feel about him to ascertain if he had as many of his possessions as he had been able to gather up in the haste.
“It may not be so bad,” declared Jerry. “We aren’t a great way from the coast, for we haven’t made any wonderful speed so far. I believe we can get back.”
“What! In the small boats?” asked Ned.
“Maybe. Or the Sherman may limp back under her own steam.”
“Not the way she’s listing now,” declared Ned. “Say!” he went on earnestly, “I wish we’d told some one about seeing that peppery chap with the black box leaving a trail of a fuse smell behind him.”
“Oh, don’t get to imagining things!” cautioned Jerry. “There are enough real happenings as it is. Stand by—that’s the order!”
“But we might have prevented this,” Ned persisted.
“Nonsense!” declared his tall chum. “This was an engine-room accident. Probably they were carrying too much steam. Lucky it wasn’t any worse.”
“We don’t know how bad it is,” remarked Bob. “Seems to me the lights are getting dimmer; aren’t they?”