Chapter Twenty One.
The Fortunes of Gaff and Billy continued.
Now, while the bottle was making its long voyage, Stephen Gaff and his son Billy were exposed to the vicissitudes of strange and varied fortune.
We left them sound asleep in the stern of the little boat, tossed on the troubled breast of the Pacific.
They never knew how long they slept on that occasion, but when they awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and the breeze had considerably abated.
Gaff was the first to shake off the lethargy that had oppressed him. Gazing round for some time, he seemed to hesitate whether he should lie down again, and looked earnestly once or twice in the face of his slumbering boy.
“’Tis pity to rouse him,” he muttered, “but I think we must ha’ had a long sleep, for I feel rested like. Hallo, Billy boy, how are ’ee?”
Billy did not respond to the greeting. Indeed, he refused to be moved by means of shouts of any kind, and only consented to wake up when his father took him by the coat-collar with both hands, and shook him so violently that it seemed as if his head were about to fall off.
“Hallo! faither,” he cried in a sleepy voice, “wot’s up?”