“Because she’s a self-bailer. Nearly all lifeboats are, now-a-days. It couldn’t fill.”
“Good!” cried the tall lad, with enthusiasm. “That settles it then. But, as Bob says, it would be a satisfaction to know whether or not Mr. Sheldon and his daughter were here.”
Bob was looking about the lifeboat in which the three lads were sitting. Professor Snodgrass had remained aboard the Comet, but was watching all that went on.
Suddenly Ned, who had been gazing about the small craft, uttered a cry, and sprang to his feet.
“What is it?” asked Jerry.
For answer Ned stooped and picked up a piece of white linen. It had lodged under a seat and was not at first observed.
“Look!” Ned exclaimed. “It’s a lady’s handkerchief!”
Bob uttered a low cry and reached out his hand for it. It was damp with the spray of the sea, and as he spread it out a name, marked in one corner with indelible ink, caught his eye. The others saw it, too—it was “Grace Sheldon!”
There was no doubt of it now. The Sheldons had been in that very boat, but they were not there now. Had the sea claimed them as its own? Had they fallen overboard? Or, better thought, had a passing vessel picked them up?
For a moment the discovery stunned, in a measure, the motor boys. Bob was especially overcome, as was but natural. Then Jerry, rallying to the emergency, said stoutly: