"The sea is not
nearly so high as it was last night, and this old craft is still on its
legs. That is the most surprising thing about the whole business."

Dan got to his feet, but he was very unsteady. His first business was
to look over the ship and make up his mind how badly she had been hurt
by the fire of the battleship. Wreck and ruin greeted him on every
hand. The decks were a mass of tangled wreckage, broken masts, twisted
stanchions and knotted ropes. In several places the decks were ripped
wide open, the lumber beneath them split and torn into shreds.

Peering over the side, the lad discovered a jagged hole in the hull,
through which the water rushed with every roll of the ship.

The "Oriole" was lying well over on her side, threatening every instant
to complete the job by turning over entirely. Dan surveyed the ship
with critical eyes.

"I see now what has saved me. It is the lumber. The schooner was so
far down in the sea, too, that the shots from the battleship could do
her little serious damage. I wonder why they ceased firing. They must
have thought we were sinking. Well, anyway, I'm still afloat, I wish I
could see the sun so I could guess where I am."

Dan consulted the compass critically, learning that the battered hulk
was headed southeast. He tried the steering wheel, making the
discovery that the ship's rudder had not been torn off. He uttered an
exclamation.

"I wonder if I could do it?" he muttered. "The land lies somewhere to
the southwest. I know we are not far from the coast, for we sighted a
lighthouse yesterday afternoon."

The stump of a mast was still standing, the stick having broken off
about thirty feet from the deck.

Dan, after a moment's reflection, ran below. Wading about in the cuddy
and storeroom in water up to his armpits, he found that of which he was
in search. He staggered to the deck, dragging a jib sail after him.
It was no slight effort to carry the heavy canvas, but the lad
accomplished it.

Now his purpose became evident. After great exertion he managed to
climb the slippery mast, carrying a block and tackle with him. The
roll of the ship made his task doubly difficult, but Dan pluckily held
on, weak and lame as he was. He knew no such word as "fail." When he
set about a certain task he did so with perfect confidence in himself.
He knew he should succeed.

"There. I'm not a half-bad sailor, after all," he cried, dropping to
the deck.

H