“Hereafter I’ll label everything I hand you,” spoke Jerry sarcastically. “You’re not safe aboard a boat!”
“No compass, eh?” questioned the old sailor. “Well, maybe one of you have one for a watch charm, that would answer?”
But none of the boys had. The old sailor cast his eye toward the clouds, that were beginning to gather, and looked across the waste of waters. The haze was thickening.
“Are we in any danger?” asked Bob, his voice showing how anxious he felt.
“Well, not right away,” replied Sam. “Still it’s going to be a risk to go in any direction. We may hit the shore and we may not. We may go farther out to sea than would be safe, and we might run up on the rocks. It’s a ticklish position to be in. I remember one like it when I was second mate on the Rolling Porpoise. We were cruising around three days, without a drop to drink or anything to eat, before we found the ship that was hidden by the fog.”
“We’ve got plenty to eat and lots of water to drink,” said Bob. “That’s one comfort.”
“And a mighty good one it is, when you’re lost at sea,” put in Sam.
“You wouldn’t call us lost, would you?” asked Ned.
“I don’t know what else it is,” the sailor replied. “We don’t know which way to go, and that’s as near lost as I want to be.”