The sight of him gave Jack a shock. Was this bedraggled, pallid, soot-smeared scarecrow the once pompous and lordly head of the Titan Steamship Company’s activities?
Yes, it was Mr. Jukes, sure enough. He sat up and asked in a hoarse, husky voice:
“Where’s Tom?”
“He’s in the other boat, Mr. Jukes,” said one of the sailors soothingly. “He’s all right.”
“Yes, but where is the other boat? What boat is this?”
“By a strange coincidence, Mr. Jukes,” said Jack, “it is one of the boats from your tanker, the Ajax. Don’t you know me, Jack Ready? I picked up your wireless call for aid.”
“Oh yes, yes, I know you now,” said the magnate dully. “But my boy Tom, where is he? I want him.”
Some of the men were whispering.
“What’s that I hear?” said Mr. Jukes, turning quickly on them. “Tom adrift? Adrift in that boat? Look for him. Find him, I tell you. Oh, Tom, my boy! my boy! I didn’t mean to desert you!”
Jack patted him on the shoulder as he might have a companion in misfortune. Gone now was the lordly, magnificent air of the head of the steamship combine. Mr. Jukes was simply a sorrowing parent, crushed by his misfortunes.