“This is fierce!” exclaimed Ned, and he closed his eyes for a moment, for they actually ached from the strain he was putting on them by trying to see the unseeable.
“You said something!” commented Bob.
“Oh, well, it might be worse,” remarked Jerry.
“How could it be?” half-fiercely demanded Ned.
“We might not be afloat in a sound ship, for one thing,” the tall lad answered. “Of course we can’t move under our own power, but we’re in no danger of sinking.”
“No—not yet,” muttered Bob significantly. “But there’s no telling how long we may be this way. Look at those sails! Might as well hang up a couple of pocket handkerchiefs!” and he motioned to the great expanses of canvas between the wireless masts.
They did, indeed, hang as limp as clothes on a line. Not a whiff of wind swayed them, and the moisture of the fog, condensing on their white surfaces, dripped down to the deck.
“Well, we can’t do anything to remedy it,” said Jerry, after a pause. “Might as well grin and bear it.”
“What do you say to looking up Professor Snodgrass?” asked Bob. “That is, I don’t mean go directly to him, for he might have, as Jerry says, some special reason for not wanting to be disturbed. But if he’s here on board—and we’re sure, now, that he is—we could ask of some of the officers and, perhaps, let him know we’re here.”