“It is gradually letting up,” said the professor. “And he must be somewhere in this neighborhood.”
They continued to cruise around until the sun went down, much to Hockley’s disgust.
“It’s no use,” said the lank youth. “He’s gone to the bottom and that’s all there is to it.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak so, Jake Hockley!” retorted Mark. “Haven’t you any heart?”
“Of course I have, Mark Robertson, but I know a thing or two. If he was afloat we’d have found him long ago.”
“We will continue the search if it takes all night,” came from the professor. “I cannot believe that poor Winthrop is drowned.”
“Poor Beans” murmured Darry, and the tears started to his eyes. “Such a good chap as he was!” And he felt almost like hurling Hockley overboard because of his heartlessness.
Upon questioning Salvador, the professor learned that there was a long stretch of marshland not a great way off and that it was possible that Sam had found his way in that direction.
“It is a mile, señor. He would have to be a very good swimmer to reach it,” said the boatman.
“We’ll sail over to it anyway,” answered Professor Strong. “We must do something.”