We listened to these sounds for hours, unable to see anything and having nought else to distract our attention, until Tom, becoming somewhat affected by the smell of the bilge water in the hold as well as by the unaccustomed rocking movement of the brig, began to feel sea-sick and fretful.
“I declare this is worse than the Doctor’s,” he complained.
“We’ll soon be let out,” I said, “and then you’ll feel better.”
But, the friendly Jorrocks did not appear; and, at length, wearied out at last by our vain watching, we both sank off to sleep again on our uneasy couch.
After a time we woke up again. There was a noise as if the hatchway was being raised, and then the welcome gleam of a lantern appeared above the orifice.
It was Jorrocks come to relieve us, we thought; and so we both started up instantly.
The hour for our deliverance had not yet arrived, however.
“Steady!” cried our friend. “We’re just off Beachy Head, and you must lie where you are till mornin’; but, as you must be famished by now, I’ve brought you a bit of grub to keep your pecker up. Show a hand, Master Martin!”
I thereupon stretched out upwards, and Jorrocks, reaching downwards, placed in my grip our old acquaintance of the previous night, the mess-tin, filled with pieces of beef and potatoes mixed up together, after which he shoved on the hatchway cover again, as if somebody had suddenly interrupted him.
I made a hearty meal, although Tom felt too qualmish to eat much, and then we both lay down with the assurance that our troubles would probably soon be over.