Should they eat up all of this last portion? or should they divide it into two parts, reserving something for the possible emergency of the next day? The moment that this was proposed, they all decided at once to reserve something, and not to devour at once all that was left. They determined to deny themselves for this day for the security of the morrow; and, hungry though they were, they preferred to have a meagre repast with hope, rather than a fuller repast with despair. And so their dinner was divided, and one portion set aside for the next day. Meagre indeed and inadequate was this repast for these long-fasting and ravenous boys; but there was no help for it; and as yet they had not quite reached the worst. They, therefore, all tried most strenuously to look on the bright side, make the best of their situation, and cheer one another with remarks of a hopeful and encouraging character.
Dinner was prolonged as far as possible. Then came the long hours of the afternoon. Gradually the efforts of the boys to keep up their own spirits and encourage one another grew feebler and feebler. From time to time they made faint efforts to find occupation for themselves, by resorting to the flag, and actively lowering and hoisting it. But the greater part of the time was spent in silently and sadly staring at the strange ship, sometimes through the glass, whenever they could get the chance, but generally without it. The remarks grew more and more infrequent. The hoplessness of their situation began to weigh down more and more the spirits of each, and at length they, one and all, relapsed into silence. Solomon kept out of sight. Wade sat, as usual, stolid and passive. Captain Corbet stood at the helm, looking in all directions, at sea and sky, with an unchanged expression of heart-broken melancholy. So the time passed.
The afternoon was far worse than the morning: in every respect. The moral tone of the whole party had declined, and the whole scene around presented no encouraging feature. In the morning they had been inspired by the hope of making communications with the ship, but now this hope died out more and more with every passing moment.
At length the sun went down, and then the shadows of the gloomy night followed slowly and steadily. One by one the shades passed over the distant ship, until at last they stood staring at the place where they had seen her, but where now they could see nothing but darkness. This completed their despondency, and the gloom around was commensurate with that which now fell darkly and desparingly over the soul of each.
For a long time they wandered up and down the deck. No one spoke. Each one was involved in his own gloomy thoughts. At length, one by one, they retired to their beds, with the hope of forgetting their cares in sleep.
Bruce and Bart were left on the deck alone. All the rest had gone below. Around all was dark. Both the boys were pacing up and down restlessly on opposite sides of the deck.
At length Bruce stopped. “Bart,” said he, in a low voice, “is that you?”
“Yes,” said Bart. “Look here. I’ve got something I want to tell you.”
At this Bart came up to him in silence.
“I don’t like this style of thing,” said Bruce.