“Come aft with me,” he ordered. “We’re afraid an accident has happened.”
“An accidend! vot sort of an accidend?” blurted out the German youth.
“We’re afraid that Ned Nevins has fallen overboard.”
“Donnervetter!”
“You must keep a cool head, Dill, and do what I tell you.”
“I am as cool as a whole barrel of cucumbers,” was the reply.
“Then come with me. There’s one chance in ten thousand that he may be on board and alive.”
Silently the two made their way aft along the heaving, swaying bridge, a dreadful fear gnawing at their hearts.