“Well, they’re probably worth that, and more, to some zoo,” declared Jack. “Just the same, I’d rather not have such things on the Coryanda while I’m aboard.”
The afternoon wore away slowly, and toward night Ira Small announced that another storm was approaching.
“An’ it’s comin’ up fast, too,” he declared.
“What do you think it will do to us, Small?” questioned Randy.
“There’s no tellin’, lad,” answered the lanky sailor. “But when a ship is as water-logged as this here Coryanda is, she’s liable to do most anything. The best we kin do is to fix up that raft of ours as good as we possibly kin and git together all the provisions and water we kin carry. Then, if the worst comes to the worst, we kin leave the yacht.”
CHAPTER XX
THE DOOMED SHIP
As Ira Small had predicted, the storm came up rapidly, and by sundown the sky was heavily overcast and the wind was blowing freely. Then came a shower of rain, the wind sweeping it furiously into the faces of those on the yacht as they moved around, trying to get together whatever they thought might be of benefit if they had to take again to the wreckage.
Jack, Randy and the old sailor had worked on the wreckage for over an hour, lashing the timbers together with half a dozen ropes and building a small platform in the center so that they might rest more comfortably than they had before.
“If only we would strike land!” sighed Andy, who, like Small, was now limping around despite the fact that his ankle was still swollen.