With the help of a little pantomime he made them readily understand, and they went forward to the blacks, who at once sat down quietly on the deck and waited.
At the words eating and drinking, Tom Fillot had gone below, and by the time his officer was ready to show the way to the stores, biscuit and water were being served out and eagerly attacked by all.
“And now I think it’s our turn,” said Mark, who had become conscious of a peculiar sensation of faintness.
“I’ve put something ready for you in the cabin, sir,” whispered Tom Fillot.
But Mark was too sensible of his responsibility to go below to eat and rest, and his refreshment consisted of the same food as was partaken of by the rest—to wit, biscuit moistened with water.
For there was the watch to visit, the tide to be examined for the hour of its change, and a score of other little matters to attend to, in addition to noting Mr Russell’s condition from to time.
“How soon will it be high water?” asked Mark at last, after wearily watching the constant flow.
“Must be soon, sir,” said Tom Fillot, who seemed to have dropped into the position of first lieutenant. “Beg pardon, sir, you mean to sail with the ebb?”
“Certainly. We must not stay here. That scoundrel may return with help.”
“You’re right, sir. Sooner we’re out at sea the better I shall like it.”