And it was very needful, too, for, beside spare suits of sails and spars, lashed to nothing, there was a great litter of miscellaneous stores,—barrels of salt pork, junk, hard-tack, and flour, kegs, chests, crates, yeoman’s and purser’s stores, and a hundred and one things—too many to tell of.
Tom could not help wondering, as he looked at this mass of stores, what they should do if it should be needful to man the guns for a fight, or work the ship in a sudden squall. However, no craft of any sort was in sight, and there was no sign of foul weather.
One of the worst features of the whole matter was the slowness with which they got along with the business of clearing up all this hamper; the work seemed to gather on them instead of growing less.
About the middle of the afternoon, Jack came to where Tom stood overseeing the men at this work. He stood beside him for some time without saying a word, looking moodily at them. Presently he spoke all of a sudden: “What do you say to it all, Tom?”
“I have nothing to say, Jack,” said Tom.
“You may have nothing to say,” said Jack, “but I have. Mark my words, Tom, if we’re caught in any sort of heavy weather we’ll founder as sure as my name’s Jack Baldwin!” So saying, he turned on his heel and walked quickly away. Tom could easily see that Jack felt touched at him because he did not show more feeling in the matter. But though Tom did not show it, his thoughts were uncomfortable enough in all conscience.
That day (the twenty-second), was as good a day as one could have wished for, and so was the next,—and that was the last, for then the trouble began.