“Gee!” said Raymond, “that would be tough. Why, the war may last a month or two yet.”
“Yes,” said Captain Foster, “or a year or two.”
“Captain,” asked Raymond, “do you remember when the ship went down?”
“No, I do not,” replied Captain Foster. “When she made her first plunge, I was thrown against the rail, and that was the last I knew.”
“I remember everything I did,” said Raymond, “but I didn’t go down very far till I began to come up again.”
“The suction from a small boat like the Princess Mary is not very great,” said the captain, “but if it had been a big liner, you wouldn’t have come up, that is, not alive.”
“Then why didn’t the other men reach the surface too?” asked Sidney.
“Because they probably became entangled in some way and were held down,” replied the captain. “Poor fellows! the sea is relentless, as only those know who follow it.”
The outer clothing of the castaways, which they had removed, was become quite dry in the sun, and they felt more cheerful. But while they were glad of the warm sun at first, they soon saw the possibility of its becoming too warm for comfort. Besides, the warmer they became the more their minds turned to the thought of water, of which there was none.
The injury to Captain Foster’s head was wholly superficial, but it gave him a very sanguinary appearance, for it could not be cleansed, and there was no possible bandage for it except salt-soaked handkerchiefs. The captain, however, soon felt quite like himself again, for, as he said, he was altogether too tough to be permanently knocked out by anything so trivial as a little blow on the head.