Chapter 8

A SORRY PLIGHT

There was a great splash. The sturdy life-boat rocked dangerously and then all was still.

John and George had now lifted themselves from their fallen position and all three boys peered eagerly about.

"Where are they? What happened?" demanded John.

"They went overboard," exclaimed Grant.

"But where are they?"

"There they are, over there," cried George. "Get out the oars."

A dark head appeared for an instant and then sank beneath the surface of the water once more.

"That's Sam," cried John excitedly. "Swing the boat around."

"I'm doing my best," panted George as he dipped one oar deep into the water and pulled with all his might. In response to his efforts the boat came around until it was directly over the spot where Sam's head had appeared. John and Grant hung over the sides ready to seize the negro the moment he was seen again.

"There he is," cried Grant suddenly, and he made a lunge at Sam, who had come to the surface for the second time.

"Get him?" demanded John.

"Yes. Help me, somebody!"

John sprang to his assistance and a moment later the two boys dragged the half-drowned negro over the side into the boat.

"Where's Petersen?" demanded Grant, loosing his hold on Sam and allowing him to sink to the bottom of the boat. "Have you seen him, Pop?"

"No," said George, "I haven't. I've looked everywhere for him, too."

Fred had now recovered somewhat from the blow he had received and he joined the others in their search for the missing sailor. The four boys stood up in the boat and peered about them anxiously in every direction.

"Are you sure he didn't come up, Pop?" asked Grant.

"I told you I've been looking for him," said George. "I haven't seen him at all."

"But he must have come up," protested John.

"Maybe he did," acknowledged George. "I don't believe it, though, for I've certainly been on the lookout."

"What shall we do?" demanded John in dismay.

"What can we do?" said George.

"But he'll drown."

"He probably has already," said Grant. "Think how long he's been under."

"And you mean to say we'll never even find his body?" said John, almost unnerved by the sudden catastrophe.

"We're going to look, anyway," said Grant decidedly.

"Suppose we row around in a circle for a while," Fred suggested.

"We can try at least," said Grant, and fitting the oars into the oarlocks the four boys rowed slowly about, all the time keeping a sharp lookout in all directions. Meanwhile Sam lay motionless on the bottom of the boat. For at least half an hour the search was continued, but not one glimpse of the missing Petersen did they secure.

"I'm afraid it's no use," exclaimed Grant at last.

"I guess not," agreed John. "It wouldn't do us any good if we did find him now. He's surely drowned by this time."

"No doubt of it," said Grant.

"And there's the fellow who did it," exclaimed George, pointing to Sam, who still lay huddled in a heap in the stern. No one had paid the slightest attention to the negro since he had been hauled aboard. He was exhausted, but in no danger, as could be plainly seen from his regular and heavy breathing.

"We ought to throw him overboard, too," said John.

"He's not entirely to blame," said Grant. "He's ignorant and superstitious and doesn't know any better, but we do, and we must act accordingly."

"He committed a crime, though," said John, "and we ought to hand him over to the authorities."

"What authorities?" said Grant with a grim smile. "Just look around you. There isn't even a boat or a bit of land in sight, let alone authorities."

"Then we ought to punish him ourselves," insisted John.

"Who are we to do a thing like that!" said George. "We've no right to take the law into our own hands."

At this moment Sam stirred and finally sat up. He was soaking wet still and very weak. He blinked at the sun, which was now shining brightly, and looked dazedly about him. The four boys watched him in silence.

"Where is I?" demanded Sam at length.

"Where do you think you are?" exclaimed John. "You're in a boat."

"De _Josephine_," muttered Sam. "Where am de _Josephine_?"

"As though you didn't know," said John scornfully. "You needn't try to bluff us."

"What dat?" said Sam in a puzzled way. "What dat you say?"

"I said you knew just as well as we do where the _Josephine_ is," said John, "and that you needn't try to bluff us, either."

The black man looked straight at John as though he did not understand a word that was said to him. His face was an absolute blank and if he was acting, he certainly did it well. He glanced down at his clothes.

"Ah's all wet," he murmured to himself.

"I suppose you don't remember jumping into this boat and being out here all night," exclaimed John skeptically, though he was nettled by Sam's appearance of innocence.

Sam merely looked at him and shook his head.

"How about your fight with--"

"Keep quiet, John," said Grant sharply. "Don't mention that yet."

"What dat?" asked Sam, looking curiously from one boy to the other.

"Nothing, Sam," said Grant quickly. "Don't you remember the fire?"

"De fire?" said Sam, completely mystified. "Wha' fire?"

"On the _Josephine_," exclaimed John. "Don't you know that she burned to the water's edge?"

"Ah does remember dat fire now," said Sam eagerly, a gleam of understanding showing in his face. "She done come out ob de hatchway, didn't she?"

"It did," agreed Grant. "After that don't you remember how we all jumped into the boats and rowed away? Don't you remember that?"

"'Deed Ah don't," said Sam. "Ah don't remembah a thing about dat ar."

"Are you sure?" demanded John sharply.

"Sho' Ah is," exclaimed Sam sincerely. It did not seem to the four boys that he could be fooling, his manner seemed so earnest.

For some moments no one on the little boat spoke a word. The boys sat and looked at Sam, and he sat and looked at them and at the boat and the boundless ocean stretching on every side as far as the eye could see. Not a sign of life could be seen on it anywhere. There was no trace of the other boats that had set out from the burning brig and it was impossible to conjecture what had happened to them.

Finally Sam sighed deeply and he sank back against the stern of the boat as though he was exhausted. His eyes half closed and he yawned sleepily.

"Ah's tired," he murmured, and straightway fell asleep once more.

"What do you think of it?" demanded John a moment later.

"Think of what?" asked Fred.

"Do you think that Sam really doesn't remember all that happened?"

"It's possible, all right," said Grant.

"But how could it be?" John insisted.

"Well, I'll tell you," explained Grant. "Sam was scared to death in that storm; you all know that. He was moaning and groaning around the boat and when the fire started he might easily have gone out of his head. Perhaps he was even stunned by the lightning. Since that time he has been in a state of unconsciousness, and now he doesn't remember a thing that he did. Oh, I think it's perfectly possible."

"It's certainly strange," mused George.

"It surely is," exclaimed John. "Still if he wasn't telling the truth he certainly is a fine actor."

"I've heard of such things happening before," remarked Fred.

"What do you mean?" said John.

"Why, people being in sort of a blank state when they do things that they don't remember at all later."

"What made Sam that way?" said John.

"I told you," exclaimed Grant. "He was so frightened it probably drove him temporarily out of his head. Unconsciously he blamed it all on poor Petersen so that when he saw him right here in the same boat, his one idea was to get revenge."

"Can we blame him then?" said Fred. "If a man doesn't know what he is doing, is he responsible?"

"I'd hate to decide that," said Grant. "At the same time I don't see how we can hold it against him, especially when he doesn't know what it was."

"When we get back to civilization we may have to tell on him though," remarked John. "Don't you think we'll have to do that?"

"Wait till we get there," advised Grant. "From the look of things right now, it doesn't seem that we are going to get there very soon."

"It's funny we don't see any boats," said George.

"Or land," added John.

"How about some food?" exclaimed Fred. "We haven't eaten in a long time you know."

"That's right," Grant agreed. "We can eat something anyway. Somebody open up the food, and the water too."

Ample provisions for several days were found to have been placed aboard and the taste of food worked wonders with the unfortunate boys. They were sparing of it, however, and even more careful of their water supply. While in all probability they would be picked up before long by some passing steamer, it was deemed advisable to go slowly. The rations apportioned were divided into five equal parts, the four boys quickly consuming their shares while Sam's was kept out for him until he should awaken.

"Don't a good many steamers pass this way?" said Fred.

"I don't know," said Grant grimly. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere near the West Indies, I suppose," said Fred.

"Perhaps we are," Grant agreed. "Personally I don't know."

"Shall we row?" suggested John.

"What's the use?" exclaimed Fred. "We don't know which way to go."

"I've a compass, you know," said George.

"That won't help us now, I'm afraid," said Grant. "If we knew where we were, it might."

"We're in the tropics all right from the feeling of that sun," said John.

All day long the little party drifted idly about on the ocean. The water was almost still, as there was hardly a breath of air stirring. Not a sail appeared to break the monotony of the scene and the boys began to feel worried. The sun was scorching and they had no protection at all. Finally, night came with a welcome fall in temperature, but otherwise they were not one whit better off. They seemed just as far from rescue as ever.