“See, he is motioning to us with a rope,” said Frank. “He is going to throw us one end.” The end of the rope was thrown not once, but three times before they could catch it. Then they drew the other raft toward them and lashed the two heaps of lumber together. Thus united, the piles made a raft of considerable size. The man who had thus strangely joined them was evidently a sailor and he was suffering from an ugly wound on the shoulder. At first he said but little, but at last they made out that his name was Sven Orlaff and that he was a Norwegian. “I be on da Dutch boat, _Christiana_,” he said, in broken English. “Da boat strike da steamer an’ I got by da vater in. So you go, too?” “Yes, we were on the steamer,” answered Mark. “Have you any idea where the steamer or the Dutch boat is?” At this question Sven Orlaff shook his head. “Lose da boat--so dark,” he said. “My shouler much hurt--I sick, fall da vater in and must swim to da lumber. No see da boat vonce more.” “We’re in a tough situation,” put in Frank, and heaved a sigh. “Are we anywhere near to land?” At this Sven Orlaff shook his head again. “No land near dis blace,” he said. “No much boats here.” “No land and very few ships,” said Mark. “Frank, it is certainly a dismal outlook.” They saw that the Norwegian’s shoulder needed to be bound up and went at the work without delay, tearing the sleeves from their shirts for this purpose. He was thankful, and told them so in his own peculiar way. The work had scarcely been accomplished when something odd happened. Frank had allowed an end of the rope to trail behind the raft. Now the rope was seized by some kind of a fish who swallowed the knot. Like a flash the Norwegian sailor pulled in the rope, landed the fish and smashed its head with his heel. “Make to eat,” he explained. “I hungry.” “Why, of course,” cried Mark. “I’m hungry myself. I wonder if we can’t catch more of them?” For answer the sailor pulled a stout fishline from his pocket, and also a knife. With the knife he cut off a portion of the fish’s tail for bait. “Give it to me, I’ll do the fishing,” said Mark, for he did not want the hurt man to use his wounded shoulder. Luckily for them, fish were plentiful in that vicinity, and in a moment he got a bite and landed another fish, weighing at least two pounds. Then he tried again and again, and soon had a mess of a dozen. “We shall not starve to death, that’s sure,” said Frank, who had fixed a place between the lumber for the catch. “I wish, Mark, you could catch something else.” “What’s that?” “Water.” “Don’t mention it. I am dry enough without thinking about it.” All were dry, and as the day wore on their thirst increased until they could hardly endure it.