“Ah, then, there’s the blessed sun at last, good luck to it!”
Gradually the glimmer increased into grey dawn, then a warm tint brightened up the sky, and golden clouds appeared. At last the glorious sun arose in all its splendour, sending rays of warmth to the exhausted frames of the seamen and hope to their hearts. They much needed both, for want of sleep, anxiety, and cold, had already stamped a haggard look of suffering on their faces. As the morning advanced, however, this passed away, and by degrees they began to cheer up and bestir themselves,—spreading out their clothes to dry, and scanning the horizon at intervals in search of the other boats.
About eight o’clock, as nearly as he could guess, the captain said—
“Now, lads, let’s have breakfast; get out the bread-can. Come, Larry, look alive! You’ve no cooking to do this morning, but I doubt not that your teeth are as sharp and your twist as strong as ever.”
“Stronger than iver, sur, av ye plaze.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, for you’ll have to go on short allowance, I fear.”
“Ochone!” groaned the cook.
“Never mind, Larry,” said Will Osten, assisting to spread the sea-biscuit and salt junk on one of the thwarts; “there’s a good time coming.”
“Sure, so’s Christmas, doctor, but it’s a long way off,” said Larry.
“Fetch me the scales; now then, doctor, hold ’em,” said the captain, carefully weighing out a portion of biscuit and meat which he handed to one of the men. This process was continued until all had been supplied, after which a small quantity of water and lime-juice was also measured out to each.