“It looks like a white dot,” he said, “and—yes, there are men on it! They’ve seen us! They’re waving!”
“Give me the glasses, boy,” said Mr. Brown, trying hard to repress his excitement.
The little officer stood up and focused the powerful binoculars on the object that had aroused their attention.
“It’s not a boat,” he pronounced at length.
“Not a boat? Then what is it?” asked Jack, puzzled.
“It’s a life raft, one of those patent affairs. I can see men paddling it with bits of wood. S’pose they had no time to get oars.”
The crew bent to their work with renewed fervor. They knew that not far off from them there must be suffering and misery in its keenest form.
Mr. Brown did not need to urge them now, although he kept hopping about and shouting his favorite:
“Give it to her, my bullies!”
As they approached the raft, they could see that it was crowded almost to the water line with a wretched, forlorn-looking assemblage of humanity.