Starvation and Plenty.
“Look, David,” said Jonathan, when the sun had risen well above the horizon on that third morning.
He was sitting down in the bow of the boat, looking out almost hopelessly for the sight of some sail, while David was in the stern-sheets steering.
“There’s a big flock of birds right in front of us. Oh, if we only could catch one! I could eat it raw.”
“Well, I don’t think we’d wait for the cooking,” said his companion philosophically, although he put the helm down a bit so that he might likewise see the birds that Jonathan had spied.
“What can they be so far out at sea?” inquired the latter.
“Molly hawks, to be sure,” said David promptly. “We must be getting into the latitude of the Cape.”
“Why, they’re as big as geese,” said Jonathan, when the boat got nearer them. “But some are quite small; are they the young ones?”
“No,” replied David; “those are the cape pigeons, which generally sail in company with the others, and not far off at any rate. When you see them close, as I’ve seen them scores of times, and as you’ll be able to if we catch one, as I hope we shall, you’ll find they are very like a large pigeon, only that they have webbed feet; and they always seem plump and fat. See, their feathers are white and downy, while their heads are brown and their wings striped with the same colour, giving them the appearance, if you look down on them from a ship, of being large white and brown butterflies, with their large wings outspread. Draw in your line a bit, Jonathan, and let the white stuff on the hook flutter about in the air; perhaps one of them will grab at it thinking it’s something good. It’s our only chance.”
No angler, not even the celebrated Izaac Walton, ever angled more industriously than the two boys did for the next hour, trying to attract one of the birds, which, both molly hawks and cape pigeons, hovered about the boat all the time, making swoops every now and then down into the sea.