“With the yacht so terribly listed, it’s out of the question to start a fire under the boilers and get things to running,” declared Jack. “Everything is so out of kilter we might end by blowing the yacht up. I guess about the only thing we can do is to drift along and wait for somebody to pick us up.”
“If there was only some sort of radio on board!” sighed Randy.
“There is a receiving set in the yacht’s office,” answered Fred. “But it doesn’t seem to be in workable condition. Probably it was knocked out of kilter in the collision.”
That day the boys managed to get the fire started in the cook’s galley, and for the first time in a number of days all enjoyed a cooked meal. If a few of the articles of food were underdone or a bit burned, nobody complained. They took their time over the repast, and ate as they had never eaten before.
Strange as it may seem, not a sail of any kind had appeared in sight. And even a trail of smoke that might indicate a distant steamer was missing.
“I reckon we’re out o’ the track o’ most ships,” was the way Ira Small expressed himself.
“If we only had the means to send out a radio call for assistance, it might be worth while to try to get our latitude and longitude,” said Jack. “But that’s of no consequence while we have no radio and no means of sailing the steam yacht in any direction.”
During the afternoon the boys made another inspection of the water-logged steam yacht, which was named the Coryanda. From records on board they learned that the craft was owned by two scientists, Paul and James Ellingham, of Baltimore. The Ellinghams, it seemed, were much interested in the collecting of rare beasts, birds and snakes, and the specimens on the steam yacht had been picked up in various parts of the globe after a tour lasting over two years. Each animal, reptile and bird was carefully catalogued.
“Some valuable cargo, I’ll say,” declared Randy. “Just look here! A white and red parrot put down as worth two hundred dollars! I wouldn’t give ten dollars for the best parrot going.”
“Yes, and look here! One blue-headed snake with a mile-long name put down at two hundred and seventy-five dollars!” cried Fred. “I wouldn’t give that much for a boatload of ’em.”