“Never mind pirates’ gold now,” returned Jack, quickly. “I’d give every dollar of it if we were all safe and sound on land again.”
“I don’t doubt it, lad. I don’t doubt it. Gold ain’t of no consequence to a man after he goes to Davy Jones’ Locker.”
A little later came a moment of excitement. Another portion of wreckage loomed up before them, and then came a crash that all but sent them into the ocean again.
“Hold fast!” yelled Jack. “But look out that you’re not struck!”
“Oh, my leg! My poor leg!” moaned Ira Small, for he had been hit again, this time by what appeared to be a piece of ship’s railing.
For several minutes the two pieces of wreckage continued to bob up and down on the water. They bumped, and bumped again, and finally seemed to wedge themselves together into one uncertain whole.
“There are a lot of ropes!” cried Ira Small. “Might as well lash all the stuff together, lads. The bigger the raft, the safer it will be for all of us. I’d help, but I can’t do nothing with this busted leg.”
Both of the boys saw the ropes he mentioned, and set to work as best they could to lash the two bits of wreckage together. This task took them almost half an hour, and by that time they were gratified to see that dawn was almost at hand and that soon the sun would be showing itself over the eastern rim of the ocean.
“I wish it was daylight,” sighed Fred.