“WHAT is it?” asked Joe, as he hurriedly slipped on his clothing.
“Beyond me,” Bob answered. “Come on. Let’s go out on deck. We may be able to find out.”
The ship was rocking terribly, and the boys found it difficult to keep their footing. But they finally managed to catch hold of a rail, and from then on it was easier.
Several other passengers were up also, intent upon investigating the strange whistle.
“Maybe the boat’s sinking,” suggested Joe.
Bob shook his head.
“Probably isn’t that. At least let’s hope not.”
With beating hearts the youths came up to the glass and turned to look out at the angry sea. Then their expression changed.
A short distance from the Empire was a small fishing schooner, its prow out of sight in the water. On the stern stood a score or more men, waving their arms frantically. It was evident that they were panic-stricken, for several of them occasionally shouted for help. The little boat tossed about violently on the crest of the mountainous waves, her front deck gradually fading from view. Every minute it seemed that the end would come.
“It’s sinking fast!” cried Joe. “Why don’t some of our crew do something?”