Judson grumbled something, but he remained on board the torpedo boat. He knew that Clif would keep his word.
“We’ll tackle it again, fellows,” announced that youth, cheerily. “If there are any more dead men below we will give them a decent sea burial.”
“Nanny,” he added, “suppose you inspect the after part while we——”
“Not on your life,” hastily interrupted the little lad. “I go where you do.”
“Well, come ahead, then,” laughed Clif, leading the way to the open door of the conning tower.
He paused before leaving the deck and cast a glance around the horizon. There was nothing in sight. With a sigh he stepped over the threshold.
The interior of the conning tower was fitted up with the usual objects found in such places. There was a steam steering wheel, a set of electric calls, a compass and a number of loose articles scattered about the deck.
At one side was an iron ladder leading forward into the officer’s quarters. Looking down this Clif saw that the apartment was empty. The deck was littered with broken chairs, clothing and a riffraff of articles. Everywhere were signs of disorder and wreck.
“I believe I understand matters now,” said Clif, slowly.