It seemed to him, too, that he could distinguish some figures on the decks, but of this he could not be certain.
“They may all be dead while this cowardly skipper is chatting with the engine-room,” he thought angrily.
“Ready!”
“Yes, sir.” It was with difficulty that Jack spoke even respectfully. He felt desperate, disgusted with all on board the “tanker.”
“I want you to stand by your wireless. Try to pick up some other steamer. Tell them there is a ship in distress out there. Wait a minute,—here’s the latitude and longitude. Send that, if you chance to pick anybody up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fairly bursting with anger, Jack hurried off. He did not dare to let the captain see his face. He was naturally a frank, honest youth and his emotions showed plainly on his countenance when his feelings were strong.
So, after all, this miserable skipper was going to run off and desert that poor battered wreck! He was going to leave the work for somebody else, for some other ship, for some captain braver than himself to undertake.
As he was entering his wireless room, he encountered Raynor.
“What’s up? You look as black as a thunderstorm,” said the young engineer.