It had been arranged between Jack and his mate that it would be just as well for them to fetch their blankets ashore and settle down on the sand for the remainder of the night.
In the first place, Jack thought it would not look very nice if they went aboard their anchored amphibian and left poor Suzanne there alone. Although she had not mentioned the matter at all, he felt sure it had given her a few qualms and that in her mind she really hoped they might decide to camp there by the fire.
Then again it would add to the girl’s peace of mind, should she chance to be lying awake, unable to lose herself because of the haunting fears connected with the mystery of Buddy’s fate, to raise her head and look around to always find that cheery fire blazing, dispersing the gloom in the immediate vicinity.
Last of all neither of them was so fond of doubling up and trying to forget their bodily discomforts aboard their crate, that they could afford to pass up a golden opportunity to sleep on solid ground, though to be sure they were able to make the best of anything when duty bound.
So Perk went aboard by means of their ferry and returned with both dingy gray blankets as well as something to serve as pillows, since they had never made it a point to travel with such “soft stuff” as Perk always scornfully termed them.
“You turn in whenever you feel like it, Boss,” Perk had said with a grin. “I’m not a bit sleepy, it happens an’ ’sides I jest feel like havin’ another whiff or two—somehow this ’baccy seems sweeter to me than I ever knowed it to be.”
“It should,” Jack told him, and evidently there must have been a significant emphasis attached to those two words to make Perk look so queer and finally grin in a most ridiculous way like a boy caught robbing the jam jar or the cookey pot, and at a loss to explain the situation.
Accordingly Jack rolled himself up in his covers, fixed his head rest to suit his own notion, turned his back on the blazing fire and lost all interest in everything saving getting his fair quota of slumber.
Perk sat there and smoked three pipes one after the other. Then feeling a little draught of cool air on his back he dragged his blanket to him, wrapped it around his form, and gun across his knees, continued to sit with his back against a big boulder he had rolled down the sandy stretch for some purpose or other.
He continued to sit there like one of the sentries they say were found at their posts when the ruins of Herculaneum were cleared of the accumulated ashes of centuries, close to the grim old volcano. Proving how in those military days a soldier stuck to his post though the heavens might fall upon him.