On counting them, which they had not done before, they found they had thirteen bonetas and skipjacks, beside the molly hawk, which they determined to eat while it was fresh; and then would have sufficient food, as the fish would keep perfectly when dried, for quite that number of days—a lucky number as Jonathan said, as it was “a baker’s dozen,” and certainly not an even one.
“An unlucky one, you mean,” said David. “They say that when thirteen people sit down at table together one is sure to die before the year is out.”
“That will only apply to the fish,” said Jonathan laughing, “and they’re dead already, and will be eaten soon. And talking of that, Dave, I think it’s about dinner-time; what say you? My clock here,” patting his stomach as he spoke, “warns me that it needs winding up.”
“All right, I feel peckish myself,” answered David, who was skinning and cutting open the fish leisurely with his clasp knife, which he could do easily without removing from his position or shifting his leg, while Jonathan cleaned them and washed them in the sea over the side of the boat preparatory to spreading them out on the top of their awning to dry in the sun. “Just wait till I finish this last beggar, and then I’ll tackle Miss Molly Hawk, and we’ll begin. Do you know, Jonathan, I don’t think birds are half so bad eaten raw? I did enjoy that cape pigeon yesterday.”
“So did I,” said the other. “It makes me hungrier to think of it. Look alive, old boy, or I’ll start on one of these fish just to keep my hand in.”
“No, you won’t, or your teeth either, you cannibal,” said David jocularly. “I’m captain, and purser too, and I’m not so extravagant as to serve out two courses for dinner. Chaffing aside,” he added more seriously, “we’ll have to be rigidly economical, Jonathan, for we can’t tell how long it may be before we fall in with a ship or reach land, and we’ve already experienced something of what the pangs of starvation are like, though, thank God, we were not put so severely to the test as some have been! I wish, old fellow, we were as well off for water as we are for grub. I don’t think there is a pint more in the breaker, now that we’ve had that last drink, and I’m sure we’ve not been very prodigal of it, and I’ve measured it out carefully every day.”
“Perhaps it will rain,” said Jonathan cheerfully—the sight of the molly hawk, which David had dexterously plucked and cut in two, the same as he had done the cape pigeon on the previous day, making him feel ravenously hungry, and limiting all his considerations to the present, instead of his being impressed with their future needs, as was the case with his more reflective companion, “Perhaps it will rain, David. ‘Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.’ Let us set to work; I’m starving!”
The appetites of the boys being hearty, they finished every scrap of the bird, which, raw as it was, tasted like roast goose to them, although it was not nearly so large as it had appeared with all its feathers on; and then both lay down in the boat and had a hearty sleep, the first they had had without interruption since they left their bunks for the last time on board the Sea Rover.
Poor fellows! they had need of rest, for the calm lasted a week, during which time their water ran out, and for more than two days they had not a single drop, although they reduced their allowance to such an infinitesimal quantity that their final draught did not amount to more than a minim.
They now endured all the agonies of thirst, their diet of dried fish making them feel it worse; and it was as much as David could do to prevent Jonathan from drinking the sea water and losing his senses, as he would have done—like many others who would not control their inclinations, but insisted on having it, and afterwards went mad and died.