"Suppose we let ourselves drift with the current."
"That's a good plan, for I suppose the Hasty did the same thing."
So we allowed ourselves to drift for fully ten minutes. Fortunately both of us were good swimmers, and understood the art of floating. If not, it might have gone hard with us.
"What's that ahead?" cried the cabin boy, at length.
"Where?"
"There! To the right!"
I strained my eyes. Was it a light? Yes; not one but several, and all moving rapidly away.
"It's a boat!" I cried. "Let us yell."
And yell we did; once, twice, and then a dozen times, in a tone that made me so hoarse I could hardly speak afterwards.
"It's no use," said Phil. "It's a steamer, and they won't pay any attention."