“Judson Greene, what is the meaning of this?”  
Stern and accusing Clif faced the boy cowering¹ at the bottom of the launch. Judson’s face was white and he showed every evidence of guilt².
 
“What do you mean?” he stammered³. “I don’t know what the little fool is talking about.”
 
“You tell lie,” broke in Trolley⁴, hotly. “You try do something to that boy. You beat him.”
 
“Worse than that,” added Joy, equally angry. “Look at the poor kid’s face. I’ll bet anything Greene tried to throw him off the spar to make more room for his own worthless carcass.”
 
Judson maintained a sullen⁵ silence. Clif fell to soothing⁶ Nanny and soon had him more composed.
 
When the youngster at last realized the truth, and saw that he was surrounded by friends, and one of those friends Clif Faraday, he cried for very joy.
 
“Oh, Clif, I can’t believe it’s true,” he sobbed⁷. “It must be a dream, and I will wake up and—and——”
 
“And you will find that it’s the finest dream you ever had, youngster,” laughed Clif, cheerily. “You are all right, Nanny,” he added. “You haven’t gone to Davy Jones’ locker⁸ yet. But tell us how you happened to get on that spar, you and Greene.”
 
Nanny glanced at Judson and shuddered⁹. The latter slyly threatened him with his clinched¹⁰ right fist, but the action did not escape Faraday’s eye.
 
Pouncing¹¹ upon Greene he grasped him by the collar and jerked him to his feet. Then forcing him against the gunwale he cried, savagely¹²:
 
“If I see you do that again I’ll heave you overboard, you miserable¹⁴ scamp. You have been ill treating Nanny and I’ll have the truth of it.”
 
“Pitch him to the sharks,” exclaimed Joy, also laying violent hands upon the shrinking lad.
 
Judson was badly frightened.
 
“I—I—didn’t do anything to him, Faraday,” he cried, struggling to free himself.
 
“Yes, you did, too,” spoke¹⁵ up Nanny. “When I tried to get on that spar last night, you struck and kicked me in the face, and did your best to make me let go. And you only stopped because you fell into the water. Then I helped you out.”
 
“We throw him overboard for that,” exclaimed Trolley, fiercely. “He no right to live.”
 
He advanced upon Judson so menacingly that the fellow fairly bellowed¹⁶ for help.
 
“I’ll do anything if you spare my life,” he moaned. “Oh, Faraday, don’t kill me. I’ll be your servant and——”
 
“Shut up,” roughly interrupted Clif. “We can’t execute you, you fool. This is no time or place for heroics. None of us may live another day.”
 
Judson crept whimpering to the bow of the launch and lay there huddled¹⁷ in a heap.
 
Clif glanced curiously¹⁸ at the fragment of spar, which was still bobbing and tossing alongside.
 
“It’s not part of the Monongahela,” he said. “It’s from some wrecked¹⁹ merchantman. What a lucky thing it happened along as it did.”
 
“That’s true,” agreed Nanny, earnestly. “When the collision happened I thought I was a goner. I floundered about and was almost drowned when I bumped against that spar.”
 
“There is one queer thing about it,” said Joy, reflectively. “How is it we came across it when we have been sailing before a gale²⁰ for several hours?”
 
“There’s an explanation for that, chum,” replied Clif. “The wind shifted and we followed it. I remember distinctly having to put the launch almost about last night.”
 
“We go now and see if that thing is capsized ship or dead whale,” spoke up Trolley, pointing to where the first object sighted by the boys was still pitching sluggishly²¹ upon the long swell²².
 
“It will not be much help to us, but we might as well sail over and see what it is,” consented Clif, grasping the steering²³ oar¹³. “Shake the reefs out and set all canvas. Judson, do something for your passage. Haul taut²⁴ that forward stay.”
 
While the others were at work Clif stood up in the stern of the launch and made a careful survey of the horizon.
 
The sun was now fairly on its way toward the zenith, and the whole expanse of ocean was bathed in a flood of light. Overhead a cloudless sky spread from horizon to horizon in one glorious canopy²⁵ of blue.
 
It was all very beautiful, but the lad turned away with a sigh. He instinctively²⁶ felt that the others looked up to him as a leader, and the responsibility weighed heavily upon him.
 
That the practice ship had been driven to a considerable distance by the gale was evident. That Captain Brookes would return and institute a thorough search for the lost boat was equally evident. But what hope was there that the launch—a microscopical²⁷ dot on the infinite ocean—would be found?
 
And if the Monongahela did not turn up, what then?
 
There was not an ounce of food in the boat nor a drop of fresh water. The stores with which all man-of-war crafts are supplied, had been lost during the collision.
 
Clif looked toward the bow. It was shattered in the upper part and the timbers were slightly strained. The launch was fairly seaworthy still, but could it survive another gale?
 
Clif’s face was very grave as he turned his attention inboard again. The sail was set and everything ready for proceeding²⁸ onward²⁹. A course was shaped for the distant object.
 
Clif glanced listlessly at it. He felt assured that it would prove to be either a capsized hull³⁰—a grim relic³¹ of some ocean tragedy—or a dead whale.
 
“We won’t lose much time in investigating,” he said to Trolley, who had come aft. “If it turns out to be what we expect, we’ll make tracks for the coast of Portugal.”
 
Half an hour later they were within fair sight of the object. As they neared it the five boys began to show signs of surprise and eager curiosity.
 
“Surely that isn’t the bottom of a ship,” said Joy.
 
“And him no whale, either,” chimed in Trolley.
 
“What’s that thing sticking up a little aft of midships?” queried³² Nanny, excitedly.
 
“By gum, it looks like a broken smokestack or funnel³³.”
 
“The thing is i............