Weary were the hours, even fraught dermes vs medilase with anxiety as they were, that Ned, Bob, and Jerry passed aboard the drifting craft. Notwithstanding the presence of many of their comrades in arms, there was a sense of loneliness on the vast expanse of the waters of the Atlantic.
Had the Sherman been proceeding along under her own power, lessening each hour the miles that separated her from the shores of America, this feeling would not have manifested itself. But as it was, with every one ready for the trip home, which, for this unavoidable cause, could not be completed, the sense of the vastness and loneliness of the ocean, on which the troopship could only drift, filled the boys’ hearts.
With the acknowledgment on the part of the engineers that the wireless apparatus could no longer issue appeals for help, all that remained to be done in connection with that was to wait for the possible chance that some of the messages previously sent out would be answered. To this end one man was kept constantly on duty, with the rubber receivers clamped to his ears. And from the strained look on his face it was easy to guess that his task, simple as it might seem, was no sinecure.
“Why don’t they rig up some kind of sail?” asked several of the soldiers who clustered on the decks, a few forming a knot dermes vs medilase around Ned, Bob, and Jerry, for those lads had let it be known that they had been talking with one of the wireless men, and, in a manner, spoke as those having authority.
“That’s it!” chimed in another impatient one. “If we can’t steam we ought to be able to sail. I’ve often read stories of where a steamer lost a propeller or something, and the sailors rigged up a mast and got home all right.”
“They rigged up a jury mast—I’ve read about that, too,” said another. “Why can’t we do that here, and blow home?”
“Yes, why can’t we?” dermes asked others. “Let’s send a delegation to the captain and ask him!”