The recollection of this gloomy event reduced Bailey for a time to silence.
The afternoon passed away. The wind increased. The sea grew rougher, and every hour served to increase the impossibility of a return that day. But the boys had already resigned themselves to this, and therefore awaited the evening, and looked forward to the night with calmness and in patience.
At sunset the evening repast was spread out, and Bailey showed his usual ravenous appetite.
“’Pears to me, boys,” said he, apologetically, “jest as if I couldn’t ever git enough to eat again. You’ll have to make allowances for a man as has been starvin for three weeks.”
After tea they made their preparations for the night. First they went to see that the boat was safe, and to make doubly sure, they hauled her farther up the beach. Then they collected a quantity of drift-wood, with which they replenished their fire.
“Thar,” said Bailey, “if so be as any vessel does pass by, they’ll be sure to see this here light, and they’ll know precious well as how some unfortunate coves is shipwrecked here, and is a signalin for help. But, misfortunately, I ben a lookin for-ard every night for help, and it never would come.”
“It was your signal that drew us in,” said Arthur. “It was a success by day, at any rate.”
They talked and meditated for another hour or so, and watched the blazing flames till they were tired.
Then they all spread themselves out in Bailey’s “den,” and fell asleep.