“Aye, ’tis too late to go t’night. ’Tis already growin’ dusk, an’ I’m not thinkin’ t’ cruise around in th’ fog, on land or on water. ’Twould be temptin’ th’ Lord t’ send us adrift ag’in, after settin’ us safe ashore.”
“We’re both wet to the skin, and I’m freezing. Can’t we make a fire?” suggested Paul, his teeth chattering.
“We’ll be settin’ up th’ tent in th’ lee o’ this rock. ’Tis lucky we has th’ jointed tent poles, with nary a tree about.”
“Can’t I help?” asked Paul, as Dan jointed the poles and unrolled the tent.
“You might be carryin’ up th’ outfit, an’ we gets th’ tent up, we’ll put un inside. ’Twill warm you up t’ be carryin’ un.”
In fifteen minutes the tent was up, the tent stove in place, and Dan was cutting driftwood for a fire while Paul stowed away their belongings, and in another fifteen minutes a fire was roaring in the stove.
“Oh, but this is cozy,” exclaimed Paul, reclining close to the stove, “and now I’m ravenously hungry again.”
“’Tis wonderful cozy in th’ tent,” agreed Dan. “I’ll take th’ kettle an’ look for water, an’ when I comes back we’ll boil th’ kettle an’ have a snack.”
Almost immediately Dan was back with his kettle of water.