Tubby made a rapid mental calculation, and decided that hardly anything short of a miracle could save them from being run down, unless the steamer saw them and changed her course.
"Can't we shout and make them hear us ?" asked Hiram in an alarmed voice.

He saw from the troubled faces of both the elder lads that something serious indeed was the matter.
"We might try it," responded Tubby, with a bitter shrug.

"But it's about as much use as a mouth organ in a symphony orchestra would be.
Better get on the life belts." With hands that trembled with the sense of impending disaster, the three boys strapped on the cork jackets.
"Now all shout together," said Merritt, when this was done.
Standing erect, the three young castaways placed their hands funnel-wise to their mouths and roared out together: "Ship ahoy! St-eam-er a-hoy!" They were alarmed and not ashamed to admit it.
"No good," said Tubby, after they had roared themselves hoarse.

"When she strikes us, jump over the starboard bow and dive as deep as you can.

If you don't, the propellers are liable to catch us." It was a grim prospect, and no wonder the boys grew white and their faces strained as the impending peril bore down on them.
They could now see that she was a large vessel--a liner, to judge from the rows of lighted portholes on her steep black sides.