Jerry was the first to speak.
“We came here to look for friends,” spoke the tall lad. “We’re not trying to get in ahead of you, or anything like that. In fact we didn’t know that you, or anyone, was aboard. We are seeking friends—perhaps you can tell us something about them?”
“Ha! That’s a likely yarn!” sneered the sailor. “Tell that to the marines! What do you want here, anyhow?”
“I tell you we are looking for friends,” repeated Jerry. “They are the uncle and cousin of Bob Baker, here. We are looking for a Mr. Nelson Sheldon and his daughter Grace, who came from Germany on this ship. Can you tell us what became of them?”
At the sound of the names the sailor started. The iron bar dropped from his hand, and a different look came over his face.
“Is that true?” he cried. “You’re not stringing me; are you? Is that a straight yarn?”
“It certainly is,” said Jerry, a trifle stiffly, for he did not like this talk, nor was he in the habit of having his word doubted. “We live in Cresville, not far from Boston. We heard of this wreck—it was reported by wireless in the papers—and we came in our airship to see if we could pick up any survivors, hoping to find Mr. Sheldon and his daughter among them. We were much surprised when we saw the steamer still afloat. If you like you can look over the side and see our aeroplane—the Comet.”
The man did not answer. But he did do as Jerry suggested. He went up on deck and looked over to where the craft of the air floated on the waves, made fast to the Hassen. Then the sailor, smiting his thigh with his palm, making a sound like a pistol shot, cried:
“Well, I’ll be hornswoggled! Avast and belay! Davy Jones himself couldn’t beat this! And you came out here in that?”
“We surely did,” said Jerry. “Now do you believe us?”