On leaving the Hildegarde behind, the boys had only one regret, and that was that they had not recovered any of the things stolen from them.
“But never mind,” said Jack, in speaking of this. “If we ever get the chance, we’ll make Captain Gilsen and Ferguson pay up!”
“Yes, and pay dearly!” added Gif. “Every one of those fellows ought to be sent to prison.”
“Well, anyhow, we got our grub for nothing—not to mention the gasoline,” chuckled Andy. “It isn’t much, but it’s something.”
Now that much of the excitement attending the escape from the schooner had come to an end, the boys realized that they were both wet and sleepy. A small oil stove of which the cabin boasted was lit, and here one after another they made themselves as comfortable as possible. There chanced to be just one heavy raincoat aboard the craft, and this was passed out to be used by the one who was on duty at the wheel.
“I’ll take my trick at the wheel for a few hours,” announced Ira Small. “That’ll give you lads a chance to take a nap an’ dry yourselves. The motor boat ain’t a schooner, but I reckon I kin manage it.”
“All right,” answered Ralph, gratefully. “If anything goes wrong with the engine, just call me.”
The boys retired to the cabin and there made themselves as comfortable as the limited quarters permitted. They hung some of their clothing close to the oil stove and then, utterly worn out, sank down to rest wherever a place afforded.
Morning found them still on the bosom of the broad Atlantic with neither a sail nor land in sight. The sun peeped out from behind a thin bank of clouds, and by its rays they set their course due west.
“We’re bound to hit land sooner or later,” remarked Jack. “That is, if the good weather and the gasoline hold out.”