David patted him on the shoulder and wiped the clammy face with the sleeve of his jersey. The great man was no more than a sodden lump of sorrowing humanity, crushed and useless, and David wished that he might somehow comfort him. Mr. Cochran had fallen back speechless and exhausted, and he did not come to himself again until the boat was well on her way toward the Roanoke. His wits were clearing, and with a trace of his old domineering manner he addressed Mr. Briggs:
"Keep up the search until you find him, my man. Ten thousand dollars for you and your men if you give me back my boy."
"We have been headed the other way for an hour," replied the third officer, with pity in his voice. "I am obeying my orders. That is all I can do."
"What? You have abandoned the yacht's boats?" Mr. Cochran almost screamed. "Turn about with you, instantly. Don't you understand? I'll make every man of you rich for life."
He tried to struggle to his feet, but muscular hands gripped his heaving shoulders and he fell back lamenting:
"The hardship will kill him. What shall I say to his mother? Oh, what shall I tell her?"
It was the first time that David had heard Arthur's mother mentioned. He felt a deeper pang at the thought of her. But, alas, Mr. Stanley P. Cochran had to learn in this cruel hour that his millions could not buy a way through all difficulties. He fell to abusing the chief engineer of the Restless, who crouched in front of him.
"You let the yacht run away from them," he stormed. "Why didn't you stop your engines, you worthless, cowardly scoundrel?"
The engineer raised a pair of hands which were raw with burns, and felt of his blistered face. With unexpected patience he responded:
"I was the last man to come on deck. I cooked the hide off me to leave things right below. Heaven only knows what started her up again. There was no getting down there again, you know that."