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,[157] 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[158] 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[159] 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[160] 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............