“Well I want more. I demand my fair share.”
“That’s your fair share, mate,” said Joe grimly. “It’s as much as any of us have. We’re on short rations, don’t you understand?”
“Huh! That may be so, but I notice that you have charge of the food,” and he sneered at Tom.
“Because we voted him to do so,” put in Abe. “And what the majority says goes!”
“The boy has more than I have!” snarled the former professor, and he glanced at Jackie who, under a little tent he had made from a spare piece of the sail, was eating his lunch at a “play party,” as he called it.
“That’ll do you!” snapped Joe, shaking a menacing finger at Mr. Skeel. “You eat what you’ve got, and be thankful on your bended knees that you’ve got that much. And if I hear any more talk that the boy has more than you, why I’ll—”
“Easy matie,” cautioned Abe. “Easy.”
Tom looked distressed, but said nothing. When the water was passed, that too had dwindled in amount. Mr. Skeel looked at his share, and seemed about to make a protest, but a glance from Joe stopped him.
The weather had been fine for several days; too fine to last, Abe declared as he worked away at the boat.
“We’re in for another storm, I’m thinking,” he said to Joe.