[CHAPTER X.]
"THE EYES OF THE RED FLEET."
While Kenworth, in his cabin, was consoling himself for his smart "dressing down" from Ned with the reflection that in the event of the Seneca being badly damaged the lad he so disliked would lose his berth, Ned, on deck, had forgotten in the business of the moment the incident of the intercepted wireless.
Herc reported that no serious strain had been found, and that so far as could be seen the Seneca was resting on the edge of a sand bank. The tide, it had been ascertained, was rising, in itself a fortunate circumstance, and within a short time things would be propitious for an attempt to back the craft off under her own steam.
"I hope to goodness we succeed, old fellow," said Ned fervently, "although I can't tell you what an unspeakable relief to me it has been to know that we are not damaged."
"You can rest assured of that. Every plate and rivet from fore-peak to shaft tunnel has been gone over. Not a drop of water anywhere."
"In that case, provided we can get afloat again without summoning assistance, we may get by without a reprimand or, even worse, a recall," declared Ned.
"Oh, that would be terrible!" exclaimed Herc. "But say, Ned, have you done any thinking about this accident?"