caught at the object and held fast to it. It was a large crate, empty, and with considerable difficulty he climbed on top.
"This is better than nothing," he thought. And then, catching his breath, he set up a long and lusty cry, in the meantime watching with a sinking heart the lights of both steamers as they faded from view.
A quarter of an hour passed—it seemed much longer to poor Dick,—and the lights disappeared entirely. His heart sank like lead in his bosom.
"They won't come back for me now," he reasoned. "Perhaps the steamboat is sinking and the others have enough to do to think of saving themselves."
The crate Dick was upon was not extra large, and it merely allowed him to keep his head and shoulders out of water. Fortunately the night was not cold, so he suffered little from his involuntary bath. But he realized the seriousness of his situation and was correspondingly sober.
"I must be a good way from land," he reasoned. "I'll have my own troubles saving myself, even if the mist clears away."
Another quarter of an hour went by and then Dick thought he heard voices. He strained his ears.
"I think Dick went overboard too, although I am not sure," came, in Sam's tones.
