“See here,” cried Tom, triumphantly. “Arn’t we in luck? Don’t ever fret again, boys. Here’s a half loaf of bread that I found in the corner. It’s rather stale, a little too dry, and too hard,—but I think it’s about the nicest morsel I ever saw. We’ve got our dinner provided for us, and we needn’t hanker after raw fish from the wiers any more.”
Tom’s joy was fully shared by all; and the half loaf of hard, stale, dried-up bread was quickly divided into five pieces, and eagerly devoured by the famished boys.
“And now,” said Bruce, “I feel like a giant refreshed. I’ll go on deck and have another look at the situation. My private opinion is, however, that if they’re coming after us, they’d better come. The tide’s getting higher every minute; and if they get here after we’ve fastened her to the shore, and got her high and dry, they’ll have to wait for twelve good hours before they can get her to float off again,—not to speak of spring tides. Do you know, Bart, if this is spring tide?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Bart.
“Well, then, we’ll have to trust to luck, I suppose. At the same time I’ve a great mind to go ashore and reconnoitre.”
“I’ll go too,” said Bart.
“And so will I,” said Arthur.
“And I,” said Phil.
“I’ll go too,” said Tom. “But oughtn’t some of us to stay on board?”
“Stay on board? What for?”