“So do I. But, Fred, this really doesn’t help us much. We must be miles and miles away from land; and without anything to eat or drink——”
Jack did not finish what he had in mind to say. But both his cousin and Ira Small understood.
“It’s a terrible situation,” murmured the lanky sailor mournfully. “But I wouldn’t mind it so much if only my leg wasn’t hurt. What good is a sailor with a broken leg? No good at all!” and he shook his head dismally.
He was now sitting up on the wreckage with Fred on one side of him and Jack on the other. All had on their life-preservers, and in addition they clung fast to a rope which in some manner had become tangled on the floating débris.
Never had the two Rover boys felt more dismal. The mind of each reverted continually to Andy and Randy and to their school chums. Were the others alive? Or had they seen the last of those they loved so well?
“Oh, Jack! what will the folks at home say if Andy and Randy are drowned?” whispered Fred.
“I don’t know,” was the doleful reply. “I’d hate to break the news to Uncle Tom and Aunt Nellie.”
“Yes, and think of Gif’s and Spouter’s folks and of the Masons!”
“It’s too terrible to realize, Fred. Let’s hope for the best. It’s the only thing we can do.”
“Maybe we’ll go down too,” came lugubriously from the lanky sailor. “An’ then I won’t never find them thirteen rocks an’ the pirates’ gold.”