Clif glanced curiously at the fragment of spar, which was still bobbing and tossing alongside.
“It’s not part of the Monongahela,” he said. “It’s from some wrecked merchantman. What a lucky thing it happened along as it did.”
“That’s true,” agreed Nanny, earnestly. “When the collision happened I thought I was a goner. I floundered about and was almost drowned when I bumped against that spar.”
“There is one queer thing about it,” said Joy, reflectively. “How is it we came across it when we have been sailing before a gale for several hours?”
“There’s an explanation for that, chum,” replied Clif. “The wind shifted and we followed it. I remember distinctly having to put the launch almost about last night.”
“We go now and see if that thing is capsized ship or dead whale,” spoke up Trolley, pointing to where the first object sighted by the boys was still pitching sluggishly upon the long swell.
“It will not be much help to us, but we might as well sail over and see what it is,” consented Clif, grasping the steering oar. “Shake the reefs out and set all canvas. Judson, do something for your passage. Haul taut that forward stay.”
While the others were at work Clif stood up in the stern of the launch and made a careful survey of the horizon.
The sun was now fairly on its way toward the zenith, and the whole expanse of ocean was bathed in a flood of light. Overhead a cloudless sky spread from horizon to horizon in one glorious canopy of blue.
It was all very beautiful, but the lad turned away with a sigh. He instinctively felt that the others looked up to him as a leader, and the responsibility weighed heavily upon him.