“No, I do not,” replied Captain Foster. “When she made her first plunge, I was thrown against the rail, and that was the last I knew.” “I remember everything I did,” said Raymond, “but I didn’t go down very far till I began to come up again.” “The suction from a small boat like the Princess Mary is not very great,” said the captain, “but if it had been a big liner, you wouldn’t have come up, that is, not alive.” “Then why didn’t the other men reach the surface too?” asked Sidney. “Because they probably became entangled in some way and were held down,” replied the captain. “Poor fellows! the sea is relentless, as only those know who follow it.” The outer clothing of the castaways, which they had removed, was become quite dry in the sun, and they felt more cheerful. But while they were glad of the warm sun at first, they soon saw the possibility of its becoming too warm for comfort. Besides, the warmer they became the more their minds turned to the thought of water, of which there was none. The injury to Captain Foster’s head was wholly superficial, but it gave him a very sanguinary appearance, for it could not be cleansed, and there was no possible bandage for it except salt-soaked handkerchiefs. The captain, however, soon felt quite like himself again, for, as he said, he was altogether too tough to be permanently knocked out by anything so trivial as a little blow on the head. He noticed that what little breeze there was came from the east, and that fleecy clouds were gathering in that quarter, indicating the approach of a storm. He called the mate’s attention to that, and said he felt uneasy about their condition if there should be a storm. “I believe, Mr. Wright,” the captain finally suggested, “that we can rig up a sail to help us toward the coast of Italy.” “We don’t seem to have much to make a sail of, sir.” “We could use our coats if we had any way to fasten them together.” “There’s a coil of ratline-stuff, sir, that we fished out of the water, and that I thought was too small to trust in making the raft.” “That’s just the thing, Mr. Wright. Make holes along the edges of the coats and tie them together with bits of the cord. Then pull out the two longest sticks you can find in the top of the raft. Hoist those sticks a little ways apart, jam the ends down between the timbers, and spread the sail between them.” All went to work with a will, the boys tying the coats together, and the men getting out the sticks for masts and setting them in position. Soon there was a curious patchwork quilt of a sail raised, but one that offered a large surface to the breeze. Raymond stationed himself at the edge of the raft, and trailing his hand in the water for a log, announced gleefully,-- “We’re making two knots.” CHAPTER XXII A RESCUE