“What’s the matter?” Walter inquired apprehensively.
“Nothing,” replied the old sailor; “only I’m a little curious about that note book. I saw it there yesterday, but thought it a waste of time to look into it.”
As he finished speaking, he stepped over the rail and onto the raft and took from the rigid left hand of the corpse a small, red-leather-bound book. Then he stepped back onto the deck of the Jetta and examined the object of his curiosity. The leather was welted and warped as a result of wetting. The leaves were celluloid, and there was pencil writing on them.
Walter looked over Det’s shoulder as the latter turned the leaves and read. Tony also stood near and watched the proceeding. Presently he started forward in wondering eagerness when he saw the young skipper’s eyes almost pop out of his head with joy. The latter unable longer to contain his ecstasy, exclaimed:
“Det! Tony! I know where Guy is. He’s on the big iceberg that was near the Herculanea when she went down.”
CHAPTER XXII
The Rescue
Following is the entry in the notebook that aroused Walter’s eagerness and enthusiasm:
“My name is Edward Kilcrane. My home is in Richmond, Virginia.
“After the last two boiler explosions, I jumped into the sea with hundreds of others. There were several rafts floating about, and I managed to get on this one with half a dozen other men. We came near being swamped in the suction when the Herculanea went down.
“I wasn’t long in discovering I had broken my right leg. It struck something hard as I hit the water, probably a piece of ice or an edge of the raft. So I was nearly helpless. Four of the other men also were injured in some way. Ours was a regular hospital raft.