CHAPTER XV

A KNOCKING IN THE HOLD


It rained heavily all that day. Late in the afternoon we got some
wind, and all hands turned out to trim sail. Action was a relief,
and the weather suited our disheartened state better than had the
pitiless August sun, the glaring white of deck and canvas, and the
heat.

The heavy drops splashed and broke on top of the jolly-boat, and,
as the wind came up, it rode behind us like a live thing.

Our distress signal hung sodden, too wet to give more than a
dejected response to the wind that tugged at it. Late in the
afternoon we sighted a large steamer, and when, as darkness came
on, she showed no indication of changing her course, Burns and I
sent up a rocket and blew the fog horn steadily. She altered her
course then and came towards us, and we ran up our code flags for
immediate assistance; but she veered off shortly after, and went
on her way. We made no further effort to attract her attention.
Burns thought her a passenger steamer for the Bermudas, and, as
her way was not ours, she could not have been of much assistance.

One or two of the men were already showing signs of strain. Oleson,