Jack left the wheel and, passing along the side of the boat, leaned over. Yes, there was a man in the sinking pontoon. He did not appear to know whether they would turn out to be friends or foes; but his situation was desperate, and upon seeing several heads appear in view he commenced saying something in a weak voice.
“That’s Magyar, of course,” remarked George; “but the trouble is none of us can translate a word of the same. However, that doesn’t make any difference. Shall we help him over the side, Jack?”
“Three of us can do the business, easy enough,” responded the other.
When the Austrian engineer realized that they meant him to leave his wretched float and clamber into the motorboat, he lost no time in starting to obey; though his actions quickly told them he must be very weak, either through loss of blood or from the shock of his wound.
Once he was deposited in the cabin, Jack sent Josh again to the lookout, and himself started the engine. The man had sunk upon the cushioned seat as though quite content to take things as he found them. He heard these unknown parties speaking in what he must have known was English, and was no doubt much astonished. Just the main thing with him was being rescued from the fate that had been threatening him with a watery grave.
“Jack, he’s pretty badly hurt, I reckon,” suggested George soon afterward.
“Well, something ought to be done for him, that’s certain,” the skipper started to say. “Do you think you could manage it, George? I don’t want to give up the wheel, and Josh is really needed forward there.”
George did not hesitate long. He guessed that it might be anything but a pleasant task, but then George had learned long ago not to shrink because things were not always delightful.
“I’m willing to do the best I can, Jack,” he said quickly.
“I knew you would, George, and there’s not one of us can dress a wound better than you, once you set your mind to the job. Get Buster to help you, George.”