The steamer seemed to cut it right in two."
"Perhaps we can get up higher on these boards."
"I've been thinking of that myself," Hodge answered.
The two friends had locked hands across the narrow space that separated
them. Now, by Merriwell first helping Bart and then Bart returning the
favor, they managed to get up higher out of the water, and were
gratified to find that the boards were sufficiently buoyant to sustain
them.
For fifteen or twenty minutes they had thus drifted on, talking and
conjecturing, listening at intervals, and now and then sending up a loud
call. The fog-siren on the shore was still screeching, and the whistles
of vessels were now and then heard. But about them was that impenetrable
gray wall of fog.
Having secured an easier position, Frank fumbled with his chilled
fingers for his watch, which he finally drew out. It was wet, of course,
but, to his surprise, was still merrily ticking away. By holding it near
his eyes the time could be told.
"About half an hour, I judge, since the collision."
"No more than that? Seems to me it has been a half a day."
Again there was silence.
"I should think a vessel would anchor, instead of trying to go on in
such a fog as this!" Bart snarled.
The memory of the disaster was beginning to make him bitter against the
captain.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241