“They’ll believe us now,” said Smith with a dry laugh.
“Man, man, don’t talk. Try and help them,” cried Drew. “Hah, look here.”
“Can’t, sir! too dark.”
“Feel those men whether they have water-bottles with them; Mr Rimmer here has.”
“Right, sir. Here’s one.”
“Give them water, then,” cried Drew, setting the example and pouring some of the cool fluid between the lips of first Panton, and then of the mate. But it was some minutes before it had the slightest effect, and there was a time when it seemed as if a fresh calamity was to be added to their other trouble.
But first one and then another began to mutter incoherently before sinking into a heavy sleep, the mate, who was the most vigorous man present, having the hardest fight of all, and when he did cease babbling as he lay there in the darkness there was a coldness of hand and weakness of pulse that was startling.
Then came a weary time of waiting in the darkness beneath the glittering stars till all at once Smith suggested that he should light a fire.
“We don’t want it to warm ourselves, sir,” he said, “but it’ll make the place more cheery like and keep off the wild beasties if there are any about.”
“Where are you going to get your wood from, matey?” growled Wriggs.