Tom passed around some food and water, though the professor did not get any. Nor did he ask for it. Jackie did not awaken, sleeping with the healthy fatigue of childhood.
Then a little wind sprang up, and some one must look to the helm. Tom’s trick was nearly up, and Joe relieved him.
“Tell me, matie, did the professor have the grub?” the sailor whispered hoarsely.
“He did,” answered Tom, “but I think it’s best to say nothing about it. He’s had his lesson.”
“Yes, but he may do it again.”
“We’ll take precautions, now that we know what a traitor he is,” answered the lad.
Morning came—morning with the hot sun beaming down and the oily sea running after the boat containing the shipwrecked ones.
Mr. Skeel seemed to feel his position keenly, though he was such an unprincipled man at heart that it is doubtful if any lesson had a lasting effect on him.
“Well, I don’t see anything of a sail,” remarked Abe gloomily, as his eye roved over the waste of water. “And it’s been many a weary day we’ve looked for one.”
“And the islands,” murmured Joe. “I can’t understand why we haven’t sighted some, unless we are farther north than I had any idea of.”