He spoke just in time, for Tommy, fancying that the raft would no longer be wanted, was on the point of letting it go.
“Hold fast with the raft too,” said the lieutenant. “As we have no boat, it is possible we may yet find it of use.”
The cask having been hoisted up, with a few other articles which had been brought off, as well as the paddles and mast, the raft was veered astern.
“As we are afloat again, lads, I must once more take the command,” said Mr Collinson. “Jack Windy, do you and Bill Sunnyside go below, and come and report to me what you see. Grimshaw, sound the well. After the battering the brig must have had, she must be making a good deal of water.”
Old Grim soon returned aft, reporting that there was six feet of water in the hold.
“That looks bad,” observed the lieutenant. “However, some may have got in when the sea which carried away the masts struck the vessel.”
While he was speaking Jack and Bill came hurrying up from below.
“Oh! Sir,” exclaimed Jack, “I don’t like the look of things at all. We have found two people in the cabin—dead—who, from their looks, I am pretty certain, died of yellow fever; if so, it will be a bad job for us.”
“It may be so,” said Mr Collinson. “At all events, we shall be wise then not to live below. Go forward, and see if there are any people there. Bill, do you stay on deck.”
Jack disappeared down the fore-hatchway, but directly afterwards returned with a look of horror.