Just at this moment one of the passengers sat up, and exclaimed, with a gesture of despair:
“I wish a wave would smash this boat up, and swallow us all up with it, rather than that we should all be given over to the horrors of starvation! To-morrow we shall have exhausted the last of our provisions. We shall have nothing left at all.”
“To-morrow is to-morrow, Mr. Wolston,” the boatswain replied. “If the boat were to capsize there wouldn’t be any to-morrow for us; and while there is a to-morrow——”
“John Block is right,” his young companion answered. “We must not give up hope, James! Whatever danger threatens us, we are in God’s hands, to dispose of as He thinks fit. His hand is in all that comes to us, and it is not right to say that He has withdrawn it from us.”
“I know,” James whispered, drooping his head, “but one is not always master of one’s self.”
Another passenger, a man of about thirty, one of those who had been sitting in the bows, approached John Block and said:
“Bo’sun, since our unfortunate captain was thrown into this boat with us—and that is a week ago already—it is you who have taken his place. So our lives are in your hands. Have you any hope?”
“Have I any hope?” John Block replied. “Yes! I assure you I have. I hope these infernal calms will come to an end shortly and that the wind will take us safe to harbour.”
“Safe to harbour?” the passenger answered, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness of the night.
“Well, what the deuce!” John Block exclaimed. “There is a harbour somewhere! All we have to do is to steer for it, with the wind whistling through the yards. Good Lord! If I were the Creator I would show you half a dozen islands lying all round us, waiting our convenience!”