“Yes, if that flying-boat hadn’t carried even the small, weak equipment she has, it would have been all off with them,” agreed Jack; “that is, if they are not at the bottom now.”
“Oh, I hope not!” cried Sam.
“Same here. But still, the sudden way that message cut off looked odd.”
The boys said little more, but kept their attention concentrated, waiting for the first sharp, quick cry that would announce that the derelict of the skies had been sighted. It was nerve-racking, the waiting for that shout.
It seemed that hours had passed, when suddenly there came a sharp bark from the bows. A keen-eyed salt stationed there had seen something even before the officers on the bridge had sighted it through their binoculars.
“What is it, my man?” hailed Captain McDonald through a speaking trumpet.
“Can’t just make out, sir. It might be a big whale, but it looks to me like a boat.”
The officers scrutinized the object pointed out through their glasses. It lay some miles from the ship, spread out darkly on the blue, gently-heaving sea.
“Can you see any human beings on board it?” demanded Captain McDonald anxiously of Mr. Metcalf.
“No, sir, I—yes, I do, too. One man. He is standing up, waving.”