Part 21 (1/2)
”I think d.i.c.k went overboard too, although I am not sure,” came, in Sam's tones.
”Yah, I d.i.n.k dot,” answered Hans Mueller. ”Und I d.i.n.k Tom he falls ofer also alretty!”
”Hullo, there!” cried d.i.c.k.--”Is that you, Sam?”
”Who calls?” came the answering query. ”It is I, d.i.c.k Rover!”
”d.i.c.k!” came from Sam and Hans.
”Where are you?”
”This way!” called Sam, and kept on calling until d.i.c.k drew closer and at last made out his brother and the German boy clinging to another crate.
”This is lucky--as far as it goes,” said Sam. ”Are you hurt?”
”Not at all. And you?”
”I got a scratch on my wrist, that is all, and Hans says he twisted his left ankle a little. But we are glad we weren't drowned.”
”What of the others?”
”I am almost sure Tom went overboard. I think the others remained on the steamer.”
”Was she sinking?”
”I think she was. I heard somebody say there was a big hole stove in her near the port bow.”
After that the three youths pulled the two crates together. A gra.s.s rope was fastened to one of the affairs and they used this in joining the two, and then the castaways made themselves as comfortable as possible on their improvised raft.
The thought that Tom might have been drowned cast a gloom over Sam and d.i.c.k and also made Hans feel bad. Consequently but little was said for the next few hours. All kept their eyes strained for the sight of some friendly light, but none came to view.
”How many miles do you think we are from sh.o.r.e?” asked Sam, presently.
”I haven't any idea,” answered d.i.c.k. ”At least fifty or a hundred.”
”Ve vill nefer see der land again!” groaned Hans. ”I vish ve had gone to dot Dampa py railroad drain, ain't it!”
”Well, even railroad trains occasionally have smash-ups,” answered d.i.c.k, philosophically.
At last it began to grow light and with the coming of morning the mist lifted a trifle, so that they were able to see around them. A gentle breeze was blowing, causing the bosom of the gulf to ruffle up. Sam climbed up to the top of the crates.
”See anything?” queried his brother.
”Well, I never!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the youngest Rover. ”If that doesn't beat the nation!”
He pointed off to their left and then all looked--and actually laughed.
And well might they do so.
There, on the waters, rode a rude raft made of several empty boxes and crates. On the top of this affair stood a campstool, and on the stool sat Tom Rover, making himself as comfortable as possible.