Weary were the hours, even fraught with anxiety as they were, that Ned, Bob, and Jerry passed aboard the drifting craft. Notwithstanding the presence of many of their comrades in arms, there was a sense of loneliness on the vast expanse of the waters of the Atlantic.

Had the Sherman been proceeding along under her own power, lessening each hour the miles that separated her from the shores of America, this feeling would not have manifested itself. But as it was, with every one ready for the trip home, which, for this unavoidable cause, could not be completed, the sense of the vastness and loneliness of the ocean, on which the troopship could only drift, filled the boys’ hearts.

With the acknowledgment on the part of the engineers that the wireless apparatus could no longer issue appeals for help, all that remained to be done in connection with that was to wait for the possible chance that some of the messages[92] previously sent out would be answered. To this end one man was kept constantly on duty, with the rubber receivers clamped to his ears. And from the strained look on his face it was easy to guess that his task, simple as it might seem, was no sinecure.

“Why don’t they rig up some kind of sail?” asked several of the soldiers who clustered on the decks, a few forming a knot around Ned, Bob, and Jerry, for those lads had let it be known that they had been talking with one of the wireless men, and, in a manner, spoke as those having authority.

“That’s it!” chimed in another impatient one. “If we can’t steam we ought to be able to sail. I’ve often read stories of where a steamer lost a propeller or something, and the sailors rigged up a mast and got home all right.”

“They rigged up a jury mast—I’ve read about that, too,” said another. “Why can’t we do that here, and blow home?”

“Yes, why can’t we?” asked others. “Let’s send a delegation to the captain and ask him!”

This seemed to find considerable favor, and it might have been carried into effect but for the fact that just then a peculiar tremor which could mean but one thing was felt throughout the ship.

“The engines have started!” cried Ned.

[93]

“That’s the throb of the propeller, sure enough!” added Bob.

“We’re moving!” came from Jerry, and a chorus of delighted cheers greeted this announcement.

There was no question as to the last statement. The Sherman was, indeed, moving slowly through the water. Very slowly, indeed. The motion was hardly perceptible at first, but it was undoubted. Soldier after soldier, hearing the news and feeling the vibration, looked over the side and verified Jerry’s announcement.

Like wild-fire rumors flew about the transport. The chief one, and that most readily believed, because it was the one that every one desired to believe, was this:

“The engines have been repaired. Now we’ll get home!”

And for a time this seemed true. The Sherman gathered headway, and soon began moving more swiftly. But, even at that, her speed was nothing like what it had been at the beginning of the voyage.

“I guess we had the wrong dope, Ned,” remarked Jerry, as the three chums discussed the situation. “It couldn’t have been a bomb explosion after all, or they couldn’t have fixed up the engines.”

“Well, I don’t know that I’ll go so far as to[94] admit that. There may have been a bomb explosion all right, but, even then, they might have been able to make repairs. Anyhow, we’re moving.”

“But we haven’t heard anything about the information we gave,” said Bob; “and the marines are still on guard at that cabin—at least some sentries are there. I passed the door a little while ago.”

“And we haven’t had a sight of our pepper-pot friend since that guard was stationed,” added Ned. “I feel sure he’s in there, and that he tried to blow up the ship.”

“Well, he didn’t make out very well, for we’re on our way once more,” went on Bob. “And now I feel like eating again! Come on, fellows, let’s scout around and see if there’s a chance to get some extra grub.”

Bob’s face, that had been gloomy all day (an unusual thing for him) cleared now. He was leading the way to the galley, followed by Ned and Jerry, when the throbbing and vibration of the craft, which unmistakably told of engines working, suddenly ceased.

The three chums gazed blankly at one another, and all about them other soldiers looked alarmed.

“What’s that?” cried Ned.

“Don’t tell me she’s stopping again!” exclaimed Bob.

[95]

“She certainly has stopped, but she may start up again,” voiced Jerry.

But as the minutes passed and the Sherman continued to lose headway in the smooth sea, the fears of the three chums and their companions became confirmed.

A little later word was circulated about the ship that the engines had broken down again. And this time more completely than before. The temporary repairs that had been made only caused a worse break in the machinery when the second accident happened.

“Well, it wasn’t a bomb explosion this time,” said Jerry, when it was ascertained for certain that the transport could not possibly proceed under her own power.

“But that isn’t saying it wasn’t the original cause of the accident,” declared Ned. “I’d like to get hold of that pepper-pot and tell him what I think of him.”

“They’ll do more than tell him, provided they can prove that he had anything to do with it,” commented Jerry.

“And it certainly looks as if he had—the way they’re keeping him a prisoner in that cabin,” asserted Ned.

“We aren’t sure he is there,” answered the tall lad.

“I&rs............