“Dick!” he cried excitedly, as he looked round in vain, while laying down his burden.
There was no reply.
“Dick! Here, Dick,” he whispered softly, lest he might raise an alarm and bring upon them danger from their lurking foes.
There was no reply, but the poor fellow stared up at him in a half-delirious way.
As quietly as he could manage, Murray filled the cocoanut he had brought, raised his brother middy’s head upon his arm, and held the hard, dark-brown cup to the lad’s lips.
There was no response for a few minutes, during which Murray contrived to moisten the parched and cracking membrane as if in vain, and he was about to try in despair to bathe the poor lad’s temples when the lips softened, there was a choking gurgling sound, a gasp or two, and then with strange avidity the midshipman drank and drank, spilling much, but drinking a fair proportion, and as the cup was drained asking in a hoarse, dry voice for more.
Instead of refilling the half nut Murray tore off another banana, hastily skinned it, and placed that in his companion’s hand, watching him eat it, gazing about him the while, and then as he found that the lad was recovering himself, he asked him if he could speak.
“Speak! Yes,” cried the lad. “It is like life.”
“That’s right. Cheer up!”
“Water! More water;” cried Roberts.