Arrived at last on the other side, he rose to his knees and tried to peer above him to the place where the second lifeboat should be swinging. A flash of lightning aided his vision. A groan escaped his lips.
"Gone!" he muttered. "Should have thought of that! But," he told himself, "there's still the raft!"
The raft, built of boards and gas-filled tubes, was lashed to the deck forward. Thither he made his difficult way.
To his great relief, he found the raft still safe. Since it was thrashing about, he uncoiled a rope closely lashed to the side of a cabin and with tremendous effort succeeded in making the raft snug.
"There, now, you'll remain with us for a spell," he muttered.
Clinging there for a moment, he appeared to debate some important question.
"Guess I ought to do it," he told himself at last. "And I'd better do it now. You never can tell what will happen next and if worst comes to worst it's our only chance."
Fighting his way back to his cabin, he returned presently with the post-shaped affair which he had lashed to the springs of his berth.
This he now lashed to the stout slats of wood and crossbars of metal on the raft. When he had finished it appeared to be part of the raft.
"There, my sweet baby," he murmured, "sleep here, rocked on the cradle of the deep, until your papa wants you. You're a beautiful and wonderful child!"