“Shall I send out an S. O. S., sir?” asked Sam, striving to keep as cool as the ship’s commander.
“Not yet. I have not a full report of the extent of the injury to the ship,” was the reply. “First reports indicate that we have struck a submerged derelict.”
But as Sam went back to the wireless room, he saw the boats’ crews all standing by and every preparation being made for abandoning the ship. In an instinctive way, he felt that she had been mortally injured. She was still moving, but slowly, like a wounded thing dragging itself along.
The first officer came hurrying along the deck and shoved his head into the door.
“You had better try to raise any ship within our zone as fast as you can,” he said.
“You are going to send the passengers off?” asked Sam.
“Yes, as a measure of precaution. The derelict we struck has torn a big hole in the engine room. It is impossible to say how long we can keep afloat.”
He hurried off. Sam heard a groan and saw Jack rising on an elbow.
“What is it? What’s up?” he asked bewilderedly, and then: “Oh, I remember now. Any orders for an S. O. S., Sam?”
“Not yet. But we’re to raise any ship we can. They are sending the passengers off in the boats.”