Jerry Hopkins felt himself being tossed through space. That is to say, he felt himself moving through space; but, as a matter of fact, he did not at that instant know whether he had been tossed or was merely falling. There was blackness before his eyes, caused, as he learned later, by a blow on the head, and even if that had not been the case he could have seen little, for the fog, after the collision, seemed to settle down heavier than before.

Jerry had a confused idea that he was shouting something. What it was he did not know, but as there was a riot of shouts going on all about him it did not much matter.

The crash had stunned him for the time being. It had shaken him through and through and disturbed his logical thinking powers. He found time to wonder what had happened to his chums, Ned and Bob, and also to Professor Snodgrass. Was it not queer how they had so unexpectedly[126] met him, and in a characteristic occupation—that of gathering a rare bug unsuspectingly harbored by some innocent spectator?

What had happened to Bob, Ned, and the professor? Did he get the bug he was after? What had become of the surprised sailor?

These, and other thoughts, rushed through the mind of Jerry Hopkins in a series of flashes, like the views on a moving picture screen. He instinctively flung out his hands to protect himself when he should land, and then——

Suddenly he felt himself being immersed in deep water. He had fallen into the sea—he realized that—and the sudden shock cleared his partially numbed brain. Instinctively Jerry held his breath as his head went under, and then he began frantically striking out. He was a strong swimmer, and, even fully dressed as he was, he knew how to take care of himself in the water.

Giving his head a shake to clear his eyes, he looked about him. He wanted to see, if possible, in what direction to swim to save himself. If he had been tossed any distance from the transport he might be some time before he could swim back to her. And it might be better to try to reach the vessel that had crashed into the Sherman.

Then another thought occurred to Jerry. Was it another vessel that had crashed into the troopship in the fog? Might it not have been some immense[127] iceberg, which, even now, was bearing down on the swimming lad?

And then Jerry, in a measure, pulled himself together. He knew that to dwell on such gloomy thoughts was hampering his powers of resistance—taking from him his own self-control that he very much needed at this time. So, vigorously putting them aside, he increased the power of his strokes, though he was beginning to feel the weight of his soaked garments. Again he shook his head to clear his eyes and looked about him for something toward which to swim. All about him was the dense, white fog. He looked for something black looming up through it—the black side of the troopship, or perhaps the side of the vessel which had crashed into the Sherman.

And then, like a flash, it came to Jerry.

“No, it won’t be black!”

For a moment that simple thought, which came in the form of a sentence he might have seen written down, puzzled the lad.

“Why wouldn’t it be black?” he asked himself, even as he swam about. And then came the subconscious answer.

“Camouflage paint!”

That was it! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“If our vessel was camouflaged, as she was,” reasoned Jerry, “the other might be also. I’ve[128] got to look for something like that and not the ordinary black-painted side of a ship. Glad I thought of that. But it’s going to be harder to watch for.”

One thing was in his favor—the sea was calm. The absence of wind for several days had made the ocean like some smooth lake, and there was only a long, gentle swell on the crests of which Jerry rose and fell as he swam onward.

But though he strained his eyes, which smarted somewhat from the salt water, he could see no fantastically camouflaged side of a vessel toward which he might make his way to safety.

“This is queer,” he found himself reasoning. “I couldn’t have fallen a great way from the Sherman or the other ship. I must have been swimming the wrong way in the fog. I’ll turn back.”

He turned squarely around—as nearly as he could judge the direction in the fog—and began striking out again. And just as he was beginning to wonder why it was he did not see something, his ears became aware of a confused shouting off to his left; at least he thought it was his left.

“There she is! There’s the Sherman!” Jerry told himself. “I’ve been headed wrong! Why didn’t I hear that noise before?&r............