“Near this ship. They were drifting about—they’d lost their oars, I guess, and the current set them back here. I saw them plainly, but I couldn’t get to them, and they couldn’t get to me. Then a fog came up and I lost them. But I saw them right off there,” and the sailor pointed to the port side of the wrecked ship.
“Then let’s go in search of them!” cried Bob. “Come on, Jerry, before it’s too late.”
“All right,” agreed the tall lad. “Is that all?” he asked of the sailor.
“About all, lad. After all the boats had gone off in the storm I stayed aboard here. Plenty of ’em wanted me to come in their boats, but I knew I’d be safer here. And I was. The storm blew itself out and—here I am.”
He paused a moment and added:
“Where the others are—who knows? Maybe Davy Jones.”
“But you think Mr. Sheldon and his daughter have a chance; don’t you?” asked Jerry quickly.
“Yes, son. They weathered the storm, that’s sure, for I saw them afterward off to the eastward in their small boat.”
“Just those two?” Ned wanted to know.
“Just them two. Probably them as was in with ’em had been washed out, or leaped overboard. Sometimes they do that in a storm—they get half-crazed, like. The oars, too, must have been lost or else Mr. Sheldon would have rowed over to me. As it was I saw him and his daughter plainly. They waved to me, and then the fog shut them out.”