"It seems to me," he said, as they finished their meal, "that it doesn't matter much how they got there. We can perhaps find that out later. There they are, and if they're habitable we want to make use of them. I'm going to swim out to this nearest one and find out what's the matter."
"If you go I go," grumbled the mate uncheerfully.
"It's evident there's no one aboard or anywhere about, and it's absurd to sit here looking at them," said Wulf, and began to peel off his clothes, which had got almost dry with walking. "No good getting them wet again," he explained. "I've been all of a chill for the last five days. I'll fasten them on to my head."
"We'll be coming back."
"We might decide to stop there all night. Better take what's left of the meat."
"Gosh!" with a perceptible shiver of distaste again.
However, he peeled also, and by careful contrivance with belt and braces they bound their bundles on to their heads and stepped into the water.
"Phew! It's cold,—colder than the sea," said Wulfrey through tight-set teeth, as they struck out.
"'Tis that," and the mate's teeth chittered visibly, between the chill of the water and distaste of the adventure.
"Temperature ought to be same ... if sea comes in," sputtered Wulfrey.