“‘Poor chaps’ is good!” growled Al. “Like Willum, the coster, I don’t believe in wasting sympathy on ‘the ’Un.’” The dashing rain and spray almost blinded at times the _Colodia’s_ boys, but they searched the remains of the wrecked dirigible keenly as the destroyer drew nearer. Now and then a great wave dashed completely over the twisted framework and sprawling bag of silk cloth. And, yes! over several specks that were apparently lashed to the wreckage. These specks were bodies of men, whether dead or alive could not at first be decided with the wind driving the spindrift head-on. Commander Lang discussed the situation with his chief officers amidships. How could they reach the wreck of the Zeppelin under such weather conditions as these? Scarcely could a boat live in such a sea! “I’ll order no boat’s crew out into such a mess as that,” said the commander, with a gesture indicating the gray, leaping waves. “And I hate to ask for volunteers when those people out there are what they are. It is hardly possible for the boys to think of them as human beings. They are set aside from us; they belong to another race--a race that has shown neither mercy nor compassion.” “It will have to be volunteers, if anybody,” said one of the other officers. “But I’ve a wife and children. If I am ordered, I’ll go. But no volunteering to get those Huns, for me!” Among the crew the indications were that they felt about the same as the officers. Said Hans Hertig: “Who would volunteer to save them squareheads yet? Not me!” “What would they do if they were in our place?” another of the seamen asked. “They can watch women and babies drown! Why should we worry about them?” “Because we’re Americans, I suppose,” said Al Torrance gravely. “It’s not done any more--not by real folks. Yankees to the rescue, old man! Somebody’s got to go and pick those Heinies off like ripe blackberries off the vine.” But more than a few of the seamen shook their heads and said “Not me!” Of course, volunteers had not yet been asked for, nor did anybody seem to know just what course should be pursued in striving to rescue the crew of the Zeppelin. Whistler Morgan and George Belding, standing well forward, looked long and earnestly at the imperiled men on the wreck, then they looked into each other’s faces. “What do you think?” Belding asked, his lips making no sound that Phil Morgan could hear, but his words easily read by Whistler. “If the _Colodia_ shoots beyond the wreck?” asked Whistler, moving his lips in the same way so that George could read what he said. “I could drift down to it with the current.” “In a boat?” asked Belding doubtfully. “With life buoys,” Whistler explained. Belding understood the scheme and nodded. Whistler said: “I’ll speak to Mr. MacMasters.” He went aft immediately to find the ensign. Finding Belding close at his shoulder, Whistler said: “You don’t need to get into this, George. What would your folks say?”