“I don’t know, though I guess I answer that description,” chuckled Bill, regarding himself with critical eyes. He was only half dressed, and the few garments he had on, for it will be recalled that neither of the boys had had time to dress, had been almost ripped from him. Nor was Jack in any better plight.
“Anyhow,” went on Bill, “the first thing I struck was this boat. It’s the small one that hung astern of the trawler. The explosion, which struck about midships, I guess, hadn’t harmed it and it must have torn loose from its fastenings when the Barley Rig sank. I clambered into it and found it was half full of water. I managed, with an old tin bucket, which luckily, hadn’t been washed overboard, to bale it to some extent, and—and then I heard you yell——”
“I don’t remember crying out,” interrupted Jack.
“Well, anyhow, you gave a good husky yowl and I glimpsed your head just alongside. I hauled you aboard and laid you in the bottom of the boat but I had not the least idea that it was you that I had the good fortune to rescue till daylight. You can imagine how glad I was.”
“But what are we going to do now? Have we oars?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No.”
“Nor food?”
Bill shook his head.