“I certainly was,” replied Buck. “Good and sick.”
“And how are you now?” went on Ned sympathetically.
“I guess it’s like hiccoughs. You must have scared it out of me. I’m fine.”
“You’re all right, Buck,” exclaimed Ned, catching the reporter by the shoulders anew. “Bob’s right. I hope you’ll stick to us. And you’ve got a big credit with me. But now, why don’t you subordinates follow instructions? Didn’t I order you all to your stations? Get busy. We’ll talk this over when we’ve got time to spare.”
Bob laughed, saluted and hurried aft to the purring engine. Buck looked about for a moment in an embarrassed way, having no specific duties, and then, his eyes falling on the life buoy lines lying tangled on the floor, he fell to getting them in order. Ned, stumbling to the ladder with Alan’s assistance, was about to draw himself up when he paused.
“I’ve just thought of it,” he remarked with a smile. “Major Honeywell and the Herald must have thought us a jolly lot.”
“Why?”
“From what I can recall, there wasn’t an answering hail or a parting salute from the Flyer when she passed over the tug. Was there?”
“I guess you’re right. I didn’t see it after I got the crane on the line. As a matter of fact,” continued Alan, “I haven’t had a look below since we picked up the baggage. I don’t know how high we are nor what is below us, land or water.”
“In that case,” said Ned, drawing himself slowly up the ladder, “after we passed, it must have looked as if the Flyer had no one aboard. We should have dropped a message or waved a handkerchief or dipped our colors. By the way,” he added, “the baggage is all right I suppose? Where is it?”