The others clambered on board, one after another, and last came two seamen, who dragged a ragged, limp, smoke-blackened form from the raft and handed it to the mate in the boat.
For a moment Jack had a shock. He thought the man was dead. But a groan convinced him otherwise. At last all were on board.
“Now, bullies,” said Mr. Brown, addressing his crew, “it’s a long, hard pull back to the ship, but think of what you’re going to get when J. J. comes to!”
“Is Mr. Jukes on board?” asked Jack. “I thought maybe he was in another boat and cast adrift.”
“What, you didn’t know him?” demanded the mate, in genuine astonishment.
“No, I——”
“Well, that’s J. J., right there.”
He indicated the unconscious form to which some of the sailors were trying to administer nourishment.
“Yes, this is the owner, all of a heap,” volunteered one of them. “His heart’s gone back on him, I reckon.”
“Looks that way,” assented Mr. Brown, glancing at the recumbent form.