"No," said the Old Sailor. "But how will the birds get at the water, my lad? It is out of their reach."
"Ah! you think so, sir. But have you ever been in want of water?"
"Of fresh water, I have, my lad; not of salt. Was for three days on a raft, with not a drop of fresh water among thirty-seven of us. Two drank salt water, and went raving mad; one threw himself into the sea."
"And the others, sir?" inquired Dan, immensely interested.
"The others, my lad, waited and suffered, and prayed for rain. And it came, my lad, and we were saved, by the mercy of God. It was awful suffering; our very eyeballs were blazing with thirst. It would have been a relief to us if we could have cried."
"But the heavens cried for you, sir," said Dan tenderly.
"Ay, ay, my lad," said the Old Sailor; "that's well said. The heavens cried for us; and we lay on our backs with our mouths open to catch the blessed drops. The salt water that was death to us dashed up from below; and the fresh water that was life to us came down from above. In five minutes we were soaked with the rain; and we sucked at our clothes. We caught enough rain-water to last us until we were picked up by a merchantman, homeward bound from the Indies."
"That was good," said Dan, feeling as if he had known the Old Sailor all his life. "Now, supposing you were wrecked, sir, on a high rock. Here is the rock," pointing to the perch on which the bullfinches were standing.
"Here is the rock," repeated the Old Sailor, chiming in readily with Dan's fancy.
"And here you are, sir, with another sailor," identifying Praiseworthy Meddler and the other sailor with the two bullfinches.