“Better let him eat some soup first,” said the captain, taking a steaming bowl from the steward, from whom he had ordered it for the relief of the castaway, “he’s half starved.”
The way in which Thurman gulped down the grateful food showed that this statement was no exaggeration.
“That’s the first food I’ve had in two days,” he declared. “You see, when the Galilee, that was the schooner I was on board of, sank in the storm some days ago, I escaped in the boat. We launched two altogether, but I guess the other one was lost.”
“Begin at the beginning,” suggested Jack.
“All right then. It was this way, Ready: After my—er—my little trouble with you I came west. I got a job as assistant wireless man at a lonely station on one of the Caroline Islands. But I couldn’t stand the life and resigned. No regular steamers touch there, so I got passage on the Galilee, a little trading schooner for Papeiti. She sprang a leak and sank, and there was only a loaf of bread and a few cans of meat in the boat when I shoved off from the sinking hulk. It was all I had time to put in. What happened after that till you bumped into me and saved me is like a bad dream. I guess I was crazy most of the time. I never expected to be saved, and—and I guess it has been a good lesson to me.”
“If it has made you resolve to reform, it will not have been wasted,” said Jack. And he then told Thurman something about themselves. Captain Sparhawk promised that as soon as Thurman was stronger he would find a job for him, for the boys’ old enemy was penniless, having left his wallet behind him in his haste at fleeing from the sinking schooner.
All that night the tempest raged with unabated fury. At times it seemed as if the yacht must go to pieces, so sadly was she wrenched and buffeted by the giant combers. There was little sleep for any on board that night and the day broke wildly on a worried, harried-looking crew. Shortly before noon the foresail tore away from the bolt ropes, and split with a noise like the explosion of a cannon. This accident was almost immediately followed by a shout from the lookout.
“Land, ho!”
This cry, ordinarily one hailed with delight by sailors, was not thus received on the Sea Gypsy. Captain Sparhawk had been unable to get an observation during the days of storm, and what with this, and the heavy lee drift made by the yacht, he had no idea of his whereabouts.
At the shout all hands clambered to points of vantage to see what islands they could be approaching. As the Sea Gypsy rose dizzily on the top of a great wave Jack saw, with a flash of alarm, that they were headed straight for a large island dotted with tropical verdure and tall, wind-bent palms about which rocks bristled menacingly like hungry fangs awaiting to penetrate the Sea Gypsy’s stout hull.