“Bad as can be, an’ right as a trivet, Sam,” he replied. “The Gladys H.’ll never float again. Her bottom’s all smashed in, an’ she’s fast in the mud till she goes to pieces an’ makes kindlin’-wood for the Injuns.”
“Then the cargo is safe, for the present?”
“To be sure. It can’t get lost, ’cause it’s a chunk o’ steel, and the ship’s planks’ll hold it in place for a long time. It’ll get good and soaked, but I’ve noticed it’s all painted to keep it from rustin’. This ain’t San Pedro, whatever else it is, and the voyage has miscarried a bit; but them beams is a good deal better off here than at the bottom o’ the sea, so I take it we’ve done the best we could by the owners.”
I sat down and took the coffee Nux poured for me.
“How about the crew?” I asked. “Are the men all right?”
“No body hurt but Dick Lombard, and his arm’ll mend nicely.”
“Have you any idea where we are, Ned?”
“Stuck in a river, somewhere. Wild country all around us, but I guess we can find a way out. Lots o’ provisions and a good climate. We may say as we’re in luck, Sam.”
I shook my head dismally. It did not appear to me that luck had especially favored us. To be sure, we might have gone to the bottom of the Caribbean in the gale; but it struck me we had landed the cargo in an awkward place for the owners as well as for ourselves. Mr. Harlan would have done better had he not taken the long chance of our making the voyage to San Pedro successfully.
“Well, I cannot see that we have failed in our duty, in any way,” I remarked, as cheerfully as I could, “so we may as well make the best of it.”