While Raymond had declared jokingly that they were making two knots, it was probably a fact that they were not going so fast as that. The raft, however, with its broad sail before an increasing breeze, was moving through the water at a rate that was perceptible, and that, to their joy, was taking them toward a safe, neutral country.

A few thin gray clouds were coming in from the east, but the sun was still warm and invited to ease and comfort. So the various members of the little party stretched themselves out as best they might. There was nothing, however, to mitigate the hardness of the surface on which they lay, except their own will to endure it.

“After all,” said Raymond, “this beats some of the beds we had in the Caucasus.”

“That must have been a tough tramp for you boys,” said Captain Foster.

“It was,” replied Sidney, “and if we had known just how hard it would be, I think we should not have attempted it.”

“Well,” said Raymond, “we were never blown up at any rate. I hope the raft won’t strike another mine; it would be our finish if it did.”

“That is not likely,” said the captain. “It is strange that even one mine should have floated out so far from the Austrian coast.”

As the day advanced, the wind increased and the raft ceased to be a stable vehicle. It pitched and rolled altogether too much for comfort. The occupants of the raft, too, became very thirsty, and Captain Foster and the boys, who had missed their breakfast, added the pangs of hunger to the misery of thirst.

Hunger and thirst, however painful, might be borne, but the endurance of the raft in a gale was an undetermined problem. It was a problem, though, that promised to press for solution, for the wind continued to increase, and the clouds rolled up dark and darker from the east. The raft plunged heavily and sullenly through the rising sea.

Finally, Captain Foster ordered the sail down, and the coats restored, each to its owner. It was high time that the coats were made to perform their proper office again, for the wind had become very cold, and the spray constantly drenched the occupants of the raft. The sail, too, must soon have been torn away if it had not been taken down.

Soon after noon the wind had risen to a gale, and instead of lying stretched in a warm sun on a placid sea, the shipwrecked party were huddled together under a cold and lowering sky. They crouched in silence, for no one felt like talking.

When the raft made an especially violent plunge and nearly stood on edge, they all clutched each other, and by their very bulk maintained their position. At one such time, however, Sidney failed to grasp the man who was next him, and slid to the edge. He only saved himself there by seizing hold of a stick which protruded a little above the level of the raft.

The boy was so nearly paralyzed by fright that when the raft settled to a level again, he could not get back to the center until he was pulled in by one of the men.

“It won’t do to take such chances as that,” said Captain Foster. “Mr. Wright, knot together the pieces of rope that we used in the sail. Then tie one end to one edge of the raft, bring it across the center and tie to the other side. We’ll all take hold of that, and we shan’t be washed off.”

The mate found there was enough rope to extend across the raft and pass back again, making it double. He also fastened the middle to the raft, and had a secure anchor.

“Now, boys,” said Captain Foster, “grasp the line, and don’t let go for an instant.”

Sidney’s narrow escape was all the warning that was necessary to make the boys, even Raymond, obey implicitly. The men did not need any warning for caution, for their experience of the ocean was sufficient to show them their danger. So all the members of the party gripped the rope with the tenacity of fear.

The supporting rope had not been provided any too soon, for the gale increased in intensity. Indeed the strength of the unfortunates who clung to the rope was sometimes taxed to the utmost to enable them to maintain their hold. Without that support they would certainly have been washed away.

The raft would sometimes be dashed up on the crest of a great wave with such force that it seemed in imminent danger of being thrown over backward. Then it would be hurled down into the trough of the sea, and be threatened with destruction by the waves that reared on either side.

As the wind increased, too, the clouds became more dense, and began to discharge dashes of biting rain. The rain itself did not make so much difference, however, for the shipwrecked people were already as wet, from the drenching spray, as they could be. But with the rain came bitter cold, and that was heart-breaking.

It had been difficult enough for the castaways to keep hold of the rope with the pitching and rolling of the raft. That difficulty was increased many fold by the cold that numbed their hands and sapped their strength. Even the sailors, with the hardihood acquired during years of hardships, found the situation a difficult one. And the boys, despite their severe schooling in endurance, found it nearly insupportable.

Raymond’s hands became absolutely devoid of feeling, and his whole body was almost without sensation. His grasp on the rope held more because his fingers were stiffening in their clutch than because of any volition on his part. He hung, almost insensible, from the rope.

Finally, Captain Foster noticed the boy’s condition, and cast about for a way to help him. He thought he might hold Raymond, himself, with one arm, but he hardly dared trust the weight of both of them to the insecure support of one hand. If there were only a line to tie him fast!

“Mr. Wright,” he said to the mate, “we must do something for the boy, or he will be washed away. Is there any line left?”

“No, sir,” replied the mate. “Yes, I think there is, too,” he added. “When I lashed the center of the line down to the raft, there was a long end which I left hanging. It’s right by the boys.”

When the members of the party had ranged themselves along the rope anchor, Sidney and Raymond were placed in the center as the most secure position.

“Then I wish you’d work your way in there, Mr. Wright, and tie that boy to the line,” said the captain.

“Aye, that I will, sir,” replied Wright.

The mate, who was near one end, climbed cautiously past the other man until he reached Raymond. Then he knotted the long loose end of line around the boy’s body under his arms in such a way that it could not draw tight, and yet so securely that Raymond could not be washed off. When that was done, he found there was still rope left, and he said to Sidney,—

“Shall I lash you too, sir? It will be safer.”

“I wish you would,” replied Sidney. “I may be able to hold on, but I am not sure. Thank God, my brother is safe.”

It was not long after that when Raymond’s hands lost their grip and he hung, an inert weight, from the rope. Then, after the raft was free of a towering wave that had broken over it, Smith’s place was vacant. When Captain Foster discovered their loss, he besought the men who were left to have courage.

“Don’t lose heart,” he said to them. “Watson, remember your family, and, Jack, that old mother of yours. I think we must be in the route from Fiume to Ancona, and there may be some traffic yet between Austria and Italy, so I fancy we stand a good chance of being picked up.”

“I shall hang on, sir,” replied Watson, “as long as any one. My missus can’t support the children alone.”

As the man finished speaking, the raft mounted the crest of a huge swell, and the mate and Jack sang out simultaneously,—

“Ship ahoy!”

There was barely time to see a steamer that was bearing down upon them not far away, when the raft plunged into the trough again. With the next rise, however, there was a good view of a long steamer with four funnels, that lay low in the water, coming up against the wind.

“It’s a destroyer,” said Captain Foster, “probably an Austrian. Well, better an Austrian than none at all.”

The castaways were observed, and the warship, after passing close to one side, hove to so as to bring the raft under her lee. There she hung, with her engines working only enough to hold against the wind, while she lowered a boat.

The shipwrecked men watched anxiously while the boat fought its way toward them. It was thrown from crest to trough, then back again, and tossed about until it seemed impossible that it could live. There was no trouble about its being able to advance, for the wind swept it resistlessly along. The greatest danger was that it would strike the raft and both be wrecked.

When the boat was opposite the raft its crew attempted to bring it up to the wind. As they came around and the gale struck them broadside on, it seemed as though their destruction was certain. For a few moments the boat was hidden beneath the piling seas, and Captain Foster and his men held their breath in terrible suspense.

Then the boat emerged, but the wind had driven it past its destination. Slowly the boat’s crew battled their way back against the gale. When they were once more opposite, they drew the boat up on the windward side, and let it down as carefully as possible against the raft.

The protection which the warship offered in breaking the force of the wind was considerable, but even then the two craft pounded together in a most alarming manner.

The mate cut the cord that held Sidney, and he and Captain Foster helped the boy to the side. Sidney had not been, like his brother, rendered entirely helpless by the cold, and the prospect of rescue had greatly restored his strength. So by watching until the boat and the raft, in their violent oscillations, were brought to nearly the same level, he was able to spring into the boat, where he was caught by its crew and placed in safety.

Then Captain Foster and the mate turned to Raymond. He was unconscious, and they were obliged to carry him, which was extremely difficult. They left the cord attached to the boy, and threw the end to the boat’s crew, who held it as a safeguard against disaster. By lifting and pulling, Raymond was transferred safely to the boat.

When that had been accomplished it was comparatively easy for the sailors to follow the boys, and the boat started back to the ship. That was a long pull and a hard one, but the nearer they approached under the lee of the ship the less difficult it became, and the shipwrecked party were finally safe on board.

Captain Foster and the boys were conducted to the cabin of one of the officers, where Raymond received the attention of the ship’s surgeon. And the mate and his men were taken forward. Warmth and food were all that Raymond needed to restore him completely, and the others responded to the same treatment.

Captain Foster learned that the ship which had rescued them was the Salzburg, an Austrian torpedo boat destroyer, which was doing patrol duty from Pola as a base. Presently they were visited by the lieutenant in command, a courteous young man who spoke English perfectly.

“What ship are you from?” he asked Captain Foster.

“The Princess Mary, freighter, from Batum to Venice,” was the reply.

“Were you wrecked in the storm?”

“No, we struck a mine early this morning.”

“And these young men?”

“They are Americans who were returning home from Russia, and I was helping them out.”

“Well, captain,” said the lieutenant, “I shall be obliged to detain you and your men. I will turn you over to the commandant at Pola. But I will see that these young Americans are sent on by rail. If you have money to get to Genoa,” he continued, turning to Sidney, “you will find ships that will take you to England, and from there you can easily get home.”

“I think we have money enough for that,” replied Sidney, “and we shall never forget what you have done for us.”

“I have done only my duty,” replied the officer as he turned away.

“It distresses me, Captain Foster,” said Sidney when they were alone, “to leave you a prisoner.”

“That you can’t help, my friend,” replied the captain, “and it is a chance that we took with our eyes open.”

“Can’t we take a letter for you to your family?” asked Sidney.

“I shan’t give you a letter; that would only get you into trouble; but when you reach London, I’ll be grateful if you will go to see my wife, at No. 18, Southampton Row, Russell Square. You can tell her just what has happened to me, and where you left me, and that will be a great comfort to her.”

“I will do that, certainly,” said Sidney.

The boys had no further opportunity for conversation with Captain Foster, for men came to take them to a separate room. And in the morning they had only a glimpse of their benefactor before they were put aboard a train at Pola for the Italian frontier, where they would transfer to another train for Genoa.

“Gee! Sid,” said Raymond, when they were speeding along in the train, “this beats tramping over the Caucasus.”

“It sure does,” replied Sidney, “and I guess we’ve done our last tramping this trip.”

“It really looks now,” said Raymond, “as though we were going to see mother, after all. When we were on that raft I thought we never should again.”

“And I hope we’ll find father with her in New York,” said Sidney.

THE END

The Riverside Press

CAMBRIDGE. MASSACHUSETTS

U. S. A