“S. O. S. from ‘Griswold’, sir! Just struck and believed to be in sinking condition!”
[CHAPTER XXII—DAVE’S NIGHT OF AGONY]
“The ‘Griswold’ sinking! And Belle on board!” hurried into Dave Darrin’s mind as he heard further details and learned that the stricken liner lay twenty-five miles away, sou’-sou’-west from the “Grigsby’s” present position.
He darted through the doorway and sprang for the bridge.
“Full speed to the ‘Griswold’!” he commanded as he darted up the bridge stairs.
But Ensign Weedon had already worked the engine-room telegraph, and hardly had Dave rested two unsteady hands on the bridge rail when he felt the dashing spray in his face, for the “Grigsby” was racing like a hound just freed from its leash.
“Heading straight to the position reported, sir,” stated Ensign Weedon.
Lieutenant Fernald, also summoned, came hurrying to the bridge a few moments later.
“Like as not some of our own friends are on the ‘Griswold’,” muttered Fernald. “I understand she carries a large passenger list.”
“My wife is on board,” answered Darrin with a calmness that he did not feel.