“Very well, but nearly starved.”
Instantly Mr. Long disappeared into the cabin. Returning shortly, he had a bundle in his hand, around which a string was tied. Then taking one end of the string, and whirling it violently around, sling fashion, he hurled it through the air toward the shore. The parcel fell about twenty feet beyond Phil. He ran to it, and, on opening it, found a quantity of sandwiches.
The ravenous way in which he devoured the sandwiches showed to those on board, far more powerfully than words, how famished poor Phil must have been.
“Will the others be back soon?” asked Mr. Long.
“O, yes. They’ve gone across the island to explore.”
“Were you able to sleep?”
“Sleep? O, yes, first rate.”
“How?”
“In the camp up there,” said Phil, with his mouth full of sandwich, waving his hand in the direction of the platform. “We’d have enjoyed it if we’d only had some sandwiches,” he added after a time, as he made a fresh onslaught on the parcel.
It was now about eleven o’clock, and not quite half tide. The tide was rising, however, and in due time would be up to the boat; and then, if the boys did not come, they might get in near enough to throw Phil a line, and from the schooner pul the boat into the water. For the present it was necessary to wait; so Phil ate his sandwiches, and talked with those on board. And this was the scene which met the eyes of Dennis O’Rafferty as he descended to the beach.