“I saw two rafts paddle up to the iceberg and try to find a landing place. But they didn’t find any, so they moved along the edge and around the east end and disappeared. I hope they landed on the other side. We would have followed them, only we couldn’t. The oars that belonged to our raft had been torn off when it was tossed overboard probably. Anyway they were gone. I heard a man on one of the rafts suggest that they land on the ice and try to dry their clothes and keep warm by running around.
“There isn’t much more to tell. My fingers are getting so numb I can’t write much more anyway. Two men on this raft got discouraged and slid off and drowned themselves. I think another will follow soon.
“There’s $200 in my inside coat pocket. Send it to my mother, Mrs. Helen Kilcrane, Richmond, Virginia.
“I’ll have to quit.”
The last few lines were almost illegible. No doubt an icy paralysis was gripping the young man as he wrote. His difficulty became more and more evident as he neared the end.
“Yes, the chances looked good for finding Guy on the iceberg,” said Tony as he finished reading. “But why didn’t we see them when we sailed around it?”
“I don’t believe that’s the iceberg they landed on,” replied Walter. “I believe it’s the one farther on.”
“I’ve been thinking that way myself,” Det interposed. “I believe that farthest one is the one near which the Herculanea sunk.”
“Let’s make a run for it as fast as we can,” proposed Walter.
“I’m agreeable,” said Det. “But first let’s get that money in this man’s pocket so’s we can send it to ’is mother. I think he deserves that much attention, don’t you, for giving us this valuable tip.”