It was broad daylight when the boy awoke, and he felt very well pleased at finding no one in the room but Ben, who sat by the table, evidently waiting for him to open his eyes. As soon as he did so the latter noticed it, and coming up to the bunk, said in his gruff way,—
"Oh, ho! Awake at last. Was wondering if you were going to sleep all day. Feel like turning out?"
"Of course," replied Eric, brightly. "I feel all right now."
On getting out of the bunk, however, he found himself so dreadfully stiff and sore that it was positively painful to move, and he had much difficulty in dragging himself over to the table, where he found a pile of ship's biscuit and a pannikin of tea awaiting him. He did not feel at all so hungry as he had the night before, and this very plain repast seemed very unattractive, accustomed as he was to the best of fare. He nibbled at the biscuit, took a sip of the tea, and then pushed the things away, saying,—
"I don't want any breakfast, thank you. I'm not a bit hungry."
Ben was too shrewd not to guess the true reason of the boy's indifferent appetite.
"There's not much choice of grub on Sable Island," said he, with one of his grim smiles. "You'll have to take kindly to hard-tack and tea if you don't want to starve."
"But really I am not hungry," explained Eric eagerly, afraid of seeming not to appreciate his friend's hospitality. "If I were, I'd eat the biscuits fast enough, for I'm quite fond of them."
Ben now proceeded to fill and light a big pipe.
"Do you smoke?" he asked, after he had got it in full blast.