“It won’t be much of a job to rig up a spar and make a sail out of our canvas,” Roy said, and Ned began to regret her coming, for with such a means of departing from the island he feared his companions would not be willing to assist in saving the Zoe.
“We might as well have breakfast,” Vance suggested. “It will be at least two hours more before she comes ashore, and there’s no reason why we should stand here like statues.”
This remark reminded Roy of his duties, and he went at once to the range, where he was soon engaged in preparing the morning meal, stopping every few moments to look at the on-coming boat.
When breakfast had been cooked and eaten the craft was within half a mile of the shore, and no one believed she had an occupant, because as yet not a sign of life had been seen.
Ned was the first to note the fact that she was hardly in as perfect a condition as had been fancied.
“Look at her port rail when she comes up on the waves once more!” he cried. “I believe it has been stove.”
“It certainly appears like that,” Roy replied after a careful scrutiny, and as she drifted nearer it was soon ascertained that she was hardly more than a wreck.
Such a sea as might have been kicked up by an ordinary breeze would have swamped her at once, and Roy fancied he had solved the question as to how she chanced to be drifting around in that vicinity.
“There has been a collision at sea not far away, and this craft was torn out of the davits. According to my way of thinking, there must have been a couple of vessels near here last night.”
“It’s precious little good that would have done us if they kept out of sight or passed the key while we were asleep,” Vance grumbled. “Perhaps we ought to stand watch during the night.”