Night came on slowly and now they ate another portion of the fish. It seemed unusually dry and they choked it down with an effort.
“It’s queer,” observed Frank. “This fish tastes to me as if it was covered with fine dirt.”
“It must be our mouths,” replied Mark. “Mine feels full of grit, as if I had been licking a piece of emery paper.”
They looked at Sven Orlaff, and found him rubbing his eyes. He seemed to be trying to get something out of them.
“My eye, he got da dust in,” said the sailor. “I no lak dat. Where da dust he come from annahow?” and he rubbed his eyes again.
“Why, the air is full of dust!” came from Frank, as he gazed upward. “Who ever heard of such a thing, so far out at sea!”
“We must be near land,” said Mark. “Dust couldn’t come from anywhere else. But I can’t see any land.” And he took another look around—this time with difficulty, for the dust appeared to grow thicker.
When the sun went down it was in a curious haze, which the Norwegian sailor said was new to him. “Nefer see da sun lak dat,” he said. “He look lak behine big smok.” And the boys agreed with him.
“It seems to me it is growing warmer,” came from Mark, as the darkness settled around them. “I feel—what was that, a gun?”
A deep booming had reached their ears, coming from a great distance. They listened and presently the sound was repeated, rolling away like distant thunder.