When all was in readiness they roused Hilda from her slumbers. Beyond a slight stiffness she felt little the worse for her alarming experience. A refreshing sleep had driven away her headache, and, to quote her own words, she felt ready to go anywhere or do anything.
"Then, how about tea?" asked Burgoyne. "Real tea?"
Hilda looked a bit doubtful. She rather fancied that Burgoyne was "chipping her". Then she caught a whiff of the fragrant odour as Peter poured the boiling water on to the tea.
"Oh, how nice!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, and almost in the same breath she added anxiously: "but I hope you washed the tea-pot thoroughly?"
The meal over, another surprise was forthcoming when Minalto proudly produced a tin of tobacco and some cigarette papers, which he had found in the after-cabin of the schooner. With unexpected dexterity Jasper's huge and clumsy-looking fingers rolled half a dozen cigarettes, and soon the three men were enjoying the long-denied luxury of smoking the fragrant weed; while Hilda, not to be left out in the cold, proceeded to make appetizing coco-nut cakes of flour, sugar, and grated nuts, which she baked on a piece of sheet iron over the fire.
Early next morning all hands were up and doing. Each had his or her allotted task: the men to overhaul and clean out the schooner, while Hilda baked biscuits and boiled ham for the voyage.
By noon the schooner was presentable. The decks had been scrubbed down with sand and water, the paintwork in both cabins washed down, and everything well aired. Mostyn tackled the motor, an American kerosene engine, taking down the four cylinders, cleaning plugs and magneto, and overhauling the thoroughly dirty carburettor.
"I don't know what her consumption is," he observed to Burgoyne, "but assuming that it is three gallons an hour, we have only enough fuel for a twenty-four hours' run."
"Ought to be enough unless we strike bad luck in the way of calms," replied Alwyn. "We'll carry on under sail whenever possible, and only use the motor in cases of emergency. Think she'll fire?"
"We'll try her," said Mostyn hopefully. "We can declutch, but we can't go astern. Not that that matters very much. Flood the carburettor, old son, while I dope the cylinders. Yes, that's the petrol-tap. When she's warm we can change over to paraffin. Ready?"