Le 23 mars 2017, 04:32 dans Humeurs • 0
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.