Never did food have a more welcome taste to Will and Tom than the hard ship’s biscuit they were proffered.
They learned that the Liverpool had come from Germany with a large cargo, and that the mate’s companion was a student of a German university, returning to his home in Boston.
His name was Willis Moore, and the boys soon struck up a genial acquaintanceship.
The two old sailors indulged in a long confidential conversation while the boys were discussing the situation among themselves.
They were experienced sailors, and their general knowledge of the ocean enabled them to very clearly estimate their probable location.
“We cannot have floated far out of the course of ships,” said Jack. “The storm has gone down, and if we can keep afloat for a few days we will probably be picked up by some passing craft.”
Except for the keen wind, the rescued Will and Tom did not suffer on the craft. There was sufficient to eat and drink for some time, and, after their dreadful experience on the Moose and the grating, they were insensible to minor discomforts.
There was a shade of anxiety cast over the forlorn group of voyagers as the days and nights wore on, however.
For two days passed and there was no indication of a ship. The sail rudely improvised was not of much use, and, as they had lost all accurate bearings, the raft had been allowed to drift at its will.
“We’ll set a watch to-night,” said Jack, that evening. “It looks as if we might have a storm before evening. Now, Hugo, you and the boys turn in and I’ll take the lookout for half the night.”