“Well, keep still about it,” suggested his companion. “No use making Tom and the kid worry. I guess we can weather it.”
“The waves’ll sweep over this old hulk, once they get running high,” went on Abe. “And that deck house won’t stand much. The boat, too, is likely to be washed away. If I only had a saw I could make twice the speed. But I don’t reckon I could get one.”
“Leastways not unless there’s one aboard, down in the carpenter’s quarters,” said Joe, “and I don’t see how it’s to be come at. We’ll have to do the best we can.”
“I reckon so. Catch hold of that plank now, and hold it while I chop it off.”
They resumed work, pausing now and then to look at the sky. It clouded up in the afternoon, and there came a heavy rain storm, unaccompanied by much wind, for which last fact they were thankful.
“This is just what we need!” cried Abe, as he saw the big drops come down. “Spread out the sail cloth, mates, and catch all the water we can. We’ll need it.”
The sail was hastily taken down, and with another piece of the canvas was spread out in the form of a huge bowl. The rain filled it, and, making a sort of channel at one end, the precious water was run into the nearly empty kegs. Thus their supply was replenished, and with lighter hearts they resumed their task, the two sailors and Mr. Skeel working at the boat, while Tom steered.
It was about a week since they had taken refuge on the derelict, and the signs of an approaching change in the weather were increasing. In all that time they had not seen a sail, and what was more remarkable, they had not sighted an island, though they were in that part of the Pacific where many are located.
“Either we are passing in and out among them, just far enough away so as to miss ’em, or we can’t pick ’em out on account of the mist,” explained Joe. “I was sure we’d sight one before this.”