“Thank goodness it’s daylight anyhow!” he exclaimed, jumping from his uncomfortable couch, with an ache in every limb in his body; “now to go on deck and attract their attention ashore.”
Utterly unprepared for the shock that was to greet him, Harry bounded up the companionway stairs and on to the deck.
Had a bomb exploded at his feet he could not have been more thunderstruck than he was at the sight which greeted him.
There was no island, no distant mainland. Nothing but miles upon miles of tumbling blue water in which the Betsy Jane was wallowing about, casting showers of spray over her bow every time she nosed into a billow.
Harry’s heart stood still for an instant. His senses swam dizzily. Then, with a sudden return of his faculties, he realized what had occurred.
The mooring rope of the Betsy Jane had been cut or had broken, and he was miles out on the Atlantic without a prospect of succor.
CHAPTER V.—ADVENTURES ON THE HULK.
A sudden sharp puff of wind, followed by a heavier dip than usual on the part of the dismantled hulk, apprised the boy that both breeze and sea were increasing. Putting aside, for the moment, by a brave effort, his heart sickness, Harry ran to the rail and peered over the side. The motor boat was careering gallantly along by the side of her big consort, and the boy was glad to note that the painter still held, despite the strain.
But Harry knew, from his examination the previous night, that it would be useless to try to escape by the motor craft. She was disabled beyond hope of repair, unless he could get another spark plug. Having made sure the motor craft was all right, Harry returned to the bow and sat down to think the situation over.
It would have been a trying one for a man to face, let alone a lad; but Harry’s numerous adventures had given him a power of calm thought beyond his years, and he managed to marshal his ideas into some sort of shape as he crouched under the bow bulwarks.