CHAPTER XX

THREE ON A RAFT

Slowly, owing to its size and clumsy, though eminently safe, construction, the life raft containing the sailor approached the bit of wreckage that supported Bob Baker and Professor Snodgrass.

“Are you all right?” the sailor called to them, and his voice seemed happy and jolly in spite of his situation.

“As right as can be,” responded Bob. “We’ll be better when we get on board with you, though. That is, if there’s room.”

“Sure, there’s plenty of room!” the old salt asserted. “And there’s stuff to eat and drink here, though I haven’t time to get at it. Steady now, and I’ll have you on board in another minute or two.”

He navigated his queer craft until he had brought it alongside the mass of wreckage, and in a few minutes more, Bob and the professor were safely on board. The change was a most welcome one, since the life raft rode high in the water, and they could sit out of reach of the waves, at least while the sea was calm. In a storm it would be another matter, but they did not think of this just then.

“Now we’ll paddle away from that bit of jagged timber,” said the sailor. “It won’t do to get rammed with that, or we may get a hole stove in one of our air tanks. That’d be bad!”

He was about to fend off the rude craft that had saved the lives of Bob and Professor Snodgrass when the latter uttered a cry.

“Wait a minute!” he begged. “My clothes! I’ve got a pencil in one pocket, and some paper. After I dry it out I can make notes on this new kind of crab I’ve found in this seaweed. I want to get my clothes.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” decided Bob. “I’ll get mine, too. May have a chance to use ’em later on.”

It did not take long to haul aboard the raft the bundles of wet clothing from the cracks in the mass of wreckage, and then Bob, taking an oar, helped the sailor shove off.

“Now we’re properly afloat, we’d better think what we’re going to do,” suggested the old salt. “I’m no navigator. Beno Judd is my name, and I generally write ‘A. B.’ after it when I sign papers. Can either of you gentlemen navigate?”

“I can’t,” confessed Bob, as he told his own name and that of his scientific friend. “Perhaps the professor may be able to help us.”

“Help you do what?” asked Professor Snodgrass, looking up from his occupation of investigating the seaweed.

“Navigate,” answered Bob. “Mr. Judd, this sailor, says he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“Neither do I,” admitted the professor. “But why do we want to navigate? We’re afloat, aren’t we? And we’re comparatively dry now, or will be soon. This bunch of seaweed will keep me occupied for several days, and----”

He paused to look closely at the sailor.

“What did you do with it?” he asked quickly.

“With what?”

“That bug.”

“Well, maybe the poor thing died of fright, or was drowned, sir,” was the answer, given with just the trace of a smile. “I went overboard when you did, sir, and that’s all I know.”

“Too bad,” mused the professor. “But perhaps sometime I may find another on you. At any rate I have this crab, and a most beautiful specimen it is.”

As he spoke he held up a squirming creature, which, as Bob said later, never would have taken a prize, even at a bulldog show.

“I hope to secure some valuable data from this specimen as to the possible effect of the discharge of depth bombs on inhabitants of the sea,” the professor went on. “If I only had some dry note paper!” he sighed, as he took a sodden mass from his wet garments.

“You’re lucky to be as high and as dry as you are, sir!” exclaimed the sailor Judd. “I count myself lucky to have met with this raft. All I had, at first, was a bit of wood hardly enough to kindle a fire. This is much better.”

“Oh, this is fine,” agreed the professor.

“Speaking of fires,” ventured Bob, “did you say there was something to eat on board?” and he looked suggestively at the closed box which formed the highest part of the life raft.

“This is supposed to contain food and water,” remarked Judd, as he tapped the compartment in question. “Shall I open it?”

“I should say so!” exclaimed the stout lad. “Even a cold snack would taste good.”

“And possibly we might find some dry paper in there on which I could make a few notes.” The professor spoke wistfully. “I have the pencil,” he added, as he drew one from his wet and sodden garments.

“We’ll soon see,” said the sailor. “There’s no need of rowing just now,” he added to Bob, who had one of the oars in his hands. “We aren’t in any danger of running into any one or of getting anywhere, either. We can see what we’ve got to eat and then start to navigate--that is, we can row and see where we get.”

“Don’t you think we ought to see if we can find the _Sherman_?” asked Bob. “She ought to be somewhere around here,” and he gazed into the fog that still surrounded them.

“Not much use trying,” declared the sailor. “I shouted until my throat ached, and never a word in answer did I get. I don’t know what happened to the transport after I left it, but I couldn’t get sight of her.”

He turned to open the case that was placed amidships of the life raft. It was tightly closed by a catch that could be easily opened when one knew how, and Judd seemed to know.

“Is this life raft from the _Sherman_?” asked Bob. “Did they throw it over when the crash came?”

“It isn’t one from the transport,” the sailor answered. “It’s like some we carried, though. This one is from the steamer _Altaire_, and I shouldn’t wonder but what that was the derelict that crashed into us.”

“The _Altaire_!” murmured Bob. “I wonder if we’ll ever see her again. I’ve always wanted to see a derelict.”

“Well, I’d rather see one at a distance, if they’re going to act as this one did,” remarked Professor Snodgrass. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t find fault, as I might never have discovered this crab if I had not gone overboard. The only thing that worries me, though, is that I didn’t get that sea-leech. That’s what was on you,” he added to the sailor. “A sea-leech is one of the rarest specimens of the genus _Hirudo_, and this was the _Hirudo aqua marinis_, quite different from the _Hirudo medicinalis_. What I was particularly interested in was to observe whether the sea-leech had the same three small white teeth with serrated edges which cause the peculiar triradiated wound as has the _Hirudo medicinalis_.”

Judd stared in amazement.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you,” said Bob, with a smile, “I’d like to try my teeth on some of the food in that box.”

“All right, my boy! I’m with you!” agreed the professor. “I feel a bit hungry myself.”

Judd opened the locker, and to the delight of the three on the raft it was well filled. There was preserved food enough to last them perhaps a week, and a large cask of fresh water--that is, it was comparatively fresh, for no one could say how long the raft had been adrift.

“But it can’t have been long,” asserted the old salt. “My opinion is that the life raft was jarred off the derelict when she hit us. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been floating in the place where we struck the water. Besides, there isn’t any growth or mass of seaweed and barnacles on it as there would be if it had been long in the water.”

“Well, we ought to be thankful for what we have,” said Bob, with a sigh, as he munched some sea biscuit and a bit of corned beef, a can of which the sailor opened. “This is a good deal better off than I thought we’d be a while back. How about it, Professor Snodgrass?”

“You are right,” was the answer from the little scientist. “And, Bob, don’t destroy any wrapping paper. I can use the blank side for making notes.”

This he proceeded to do, taking the crab as his first specimen, though he declared that the bunch of seaweed, which he had laid aside, contained much else that would hold his attention later.

“Well, now let’s consider what’s best to do,” said Bob, when they had made a fairly substantial meal, washing it down with the water which, though not exactly as good as that from a faucet or a well, was very acceptable.

“Which way shall we row?” asked the sailor. “If you gentlemen will tell me how to navigate I’ll be only too willing.”

“I’ll do my share of rowing,” agreed Bob. “But that’s the question--which way shall we row?”

“Or sail,” added Judd.

“Sail!” exclaimed the stout lad. “Can we sail?”

“Oh, yes, there’s a small mast and sail here,” and the seaman pointed out where it was fastened to the raft. “We can hoist the sail, but there’s no wind to fill it.”

This was true enough. The fog still enveloped them, and it needed a wind to carry away this concealing vapor. It hid them from view even as it hid from them the possible location of the _Sherman_ and the derelict.

“Well, let’s hoist the sail, anyhow,” suggested Bob. “Then it will be ready when the wind does come, and if there are any small boats cruising around looking for us, or if any other ships get in this neighborhood, they can see us more easily if we have the sail up.”

“You’re right,” agreed the sailor. “Up she goes.”

As has been remarked, the raft, on which the three now were, consisted of two large hollow steel cylinders. Between them was a raised framework, and this, in addition to holding the box of food, contained a compartment for the oars and for a small sail. The mast for the latter was soon stepped in the hole provided for it. It was braced by ropes, and the sail hoisted.

“Now we’re all ready for a voyage!” cried Bob, more gaily than he could have talked an hour before.

For some little time they drifted on, the sail hanging idly at the mast, and the fog lazily swirling around them. Then, suddenly, there came a puff of wind. They all felt it at once.

“A breeze!” cried the sailor.

“Yes, and look!” cried Bob. “There’s the _Sherman_!”

He pointed to what seemed an opening torn in the veil of fog, and all three had a glimpse of the camouflaged side of some vessel. Then, as the wind bellied out the sail, the fog shut in again, and it was as if a blank, white wall confronted them.