“Oh, I know that! It’s not your fault, Randy,” and Andy said no more.
After a little while no one seemed to feel like talking. A gaunt spectre arose in the mind of every one on the wreckage—the spectre of Starvation. With nothing to eat, how much longer could they live?
“Maybe we would have been better off if we had gone down in the first place,” thought Jack. “It’s better to die quickly than to die by inches.”
CHAPTER XVI
ABOARD THE STEAM YACHT
Slowly the forenoon passed. Again all scanned the horizon eagerly. Twice they thought they saw sails in the distance, and once caught sight of a trail of smoke left by some steamer. But no craft came close enough to be signaled. Nor did they see any more of the wreckage.
“I’m afraid the other fellows have gone to the bottom,” said Fred, and his voice trembled as he spoke.
“Well, there ain’t much ch’ice between bein’ drowned an’ starvin’ to death,” came from Ira Small. His thin face was thinner than ever and his eyes burned with a peculiar fire.
“Gee, I hope Small doesn’t go crazy,” whispered Randy to Jack. “I’ve heard some people do that when they get too hungry.”
“He certainly looks pretty wild, Randy,” was the reply.