“Very well, sir; then you take the first watch while I go below, only there ain’t no below. It’s of no use for you to look back at the reef, sir, for they couldn’t have got through, and if they could this canoe goes two miles to their one. What we’ve got to do is to wait for to-morrow morning, and hope for the best.”
Jack said nothing, but he knew that all his companion said was right, and he sat there silent, while Ned stretched himself in the bottom and was off soundly to sleep. Almost directly after about half the blacks withdrew the paddles from the water and lay down in the bottom, leaving the rest to urge the boat along.
It was hard work in the solitude of that night to keep from giving way to despair, and to cling to the hope that those in the boat had not attempted the daring feat performed with the canoe, but had turned back to the yacht to get her under weigh and come in chase. For always there came the thought that by morning the canoe would be out of sight, and he and Ned still on the way to some state of captivity, preserved for Heaven only knew what terrible fate.
From time to time the resting half of the savages sprung up, summoned by a thump given with the handle of a paddle, each rower awakening the man who was to relieve him after about an hour’s spell; and Jack watched all this in a dull, apathetic way again and again, till somehow the long weary night sluggishly drew near its end. Over and over again an angry feeling of resentment attacked the watcher, and when the sleeping savages were aroused he felt disposed to kick Ned and make him wake up and talk.
But a better feeling soon prevailed. “Poor fellow!” he said to himself; “why shouldn’t he rest and forget all his troubles for a few hours? It is only selfishness to rouse him.”
It was still dark when Ned suddenly sat up. “Morning, sir,” he said; “been to sleep?”
“I? No, Ned, I couldn’t sleep.”
“That’s a pity. I could, like a top. It’s done me a lot of good, and I’m ready now for anything, fighting, swimming, or breakfast, specially the last. Hot coffee, toast, fried ham, or a bit of fish. Not particular. Don’t do to be when you’re at sea.”
“You don’t seem to trouble much about our position, Ned,” said Jack bitterly.
“Not a bit, sir. What’s the good? Don’t make it any better to go on the dump. It can’t last. It’s like the weather—either gets better or it gets worse. My word, what a fine thing a bit o’ sleep is! Bit cool though. Always is just before sunrise. Seen anything of the yacht, sir?”