Now that they had rested, all felt the pangs of hunger. Water was to be had in sufficient quantities for drinking purposes, but the jungle, as far as they could see, afforded nothing in the way of food.
“Anyhow, that hurricane ought to have thrown some fish up on the beach, and maybe we can find some oysters,” suggested Randy.
“Why not take a look around for the raft?” came from his twin brother. “It got stuck for a moment when I came ashore, and I can’t believe but what the hurricane cast it up somewhere around here.”
“Don’t leave me!” groaned the lanky sailor, propping himself up on one of his arms. “Don’t leave me all alone in this out-of-the-way place.”
“We’re not going to leave you, Small,” answered Jack, kindly. “We’ll do what we can for you, never fear.”
“You saved my life, lad,” went on the old tar, gratefully. “I ain’t never goin’ to forgit it, neither. You know what I said about them thirteen rocks and the pirates’ gold. If I ever lay hands on that gold, you’re goin’ to git a big share of it.”
“What I’d like to lay my hands on just now is a roast-beef sandwich,” said Andy. “I feel hollow right down to my toes.”
“Yes, a sandwich and a good cup of hot coffee,” put in Fred.
As Andy’s foot still hurt him, it was decided that he was to remain with the sailor while the three other boys walked down the beach in the direction where Andy had landed.