Tom looked after the meals, though he had not much to do, for the menu was not very varied. He had to keep Jackie amused, too, and invented such little games as fishing over the broken rail of the ship with a string for a line, and no hook, and making fairy castles out of the splinters that Abe knocked off the lifeboat.
Several days passed, and though they looked almost every other minute for a sail or a sight of land they saw nothing. They were borne on by the currents and the light winds that at times scarcely filled their clumsy sail.
The watches were kept as before, Tom not being allowed to share in them. But the darkness of the night was not relieved by any welcome light. The days seemed to become more dreary as they passed, and only for the work of making the boat they might not have stood the time so well. But the work was a blessing to them.
Tom looked anxiously at the store of food, and as he saw it diminishing, and no help of rescue at hand he spoke to the two sailors about it.
“Well, we’ll have to reduce rations, that’s all, matie,” said Joe, and he spoke cheerfully.
“Of course,” assented Abe. “I’ll have the boat done in a few more days, and then we can set sail. Reduce rations! If I only had a saw I could work faster, but I’ll do the best I can. Reduce rations, that’s all. I’m getting too fat as it is.”
He laughed at his joke, and a grim joke it was, for his belt had been taken in several holes, and could stand more. They were all becoming thin.
When the next meal, after the reduced ration decision had been arrived at, was served, Mr. Skeel looked at the portion handed him on the top of a beef tin.
“Is that all I get?” he demanded roughly. “That isn’t enough for a man.”
“It’s all that can safely be given,” spoke Tom, quietly.