“Yes, yes,” came in an excited chorus, for the discovery seemed to have sent a thrill of joy through all the men.
“That’s right, messmates,” cried Joe. “Then all we have got to do now, gentlemen, is to try and take our bearings right, rub the wet dust out of all our eyes, and make a fresh start.”
“The wet dust, Joe!” cried Rodd, with the nearest approach to a smile which had appeared upon his face for many days. “Here, uncle, get out the compass, and let’s see what we can do with that.”
“No,” said the doctor quietly. “We must make a fresh start, but it must be calmly and well, and after food and a good night’s rest. Collect wood, my lads, to make a fire. Boys, take your guns and go up-stream a little higher where we have never been before, and shoot what birds you can. Two or three of you men do what you can from the shore with the fishing-lines. To-morrow morning we will start calmly and trustingly to the river once again. Be of good heart, Morny, my lad, for the end of our awful struggle must be coming near, and every one of us must do all he can to help his brother for the one great end.”
A cheer rose at the doctor’s words, and the change in the whole party was wonderful.
All worked with such energy that long before darkness set in the tent was rigged up for the night, a good meal had been prepared, and almost as full of hope as on the night when they had last encamped there for their rest, a couple of hours were pleasantly passed before the fire was once more made up and the watch set. Very soon afterwards all were plunged in a deep and restful sleep, one from which Rodd and Morny were startled by a terrific clap of thunder. Then the interior of their tent was lit up by a vivid blue flash of lightning, by which they saw the watch—Joe Cross and one of the sailors leaning over them, the former saying—
“There’s going to be an awful—”
“Storm,” he would have said, but his words were drowned by another crash which came instantly upon a sheet of lightning, and pretty well stunned them with its roar.