There was something hopeful in the mere act of working with a view to deliverance that raised the spirits of the men, and when the sun began to sink towards the western horizon, they sat down to their slight meal of biscuit and cocoa-nut milk with more appetite and relish than they had experienced for many days.
“I’ve bin thinkin’,” said Larry, pausing in the midst of his supper.
“Well, wot have ’ee bin thinkin’, lad?” said Muggins, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his coat and wishing for more food—but wishing in vain, for he had finished his allowance—“you’re a good deal given to thinkin’, but there’s not much ever comes on it, ’xcept wind in the shape o’ words.”
“And what’s words,” retorted the cook, in supreme contempt, “but the expression o’ sintiment, widout which there wouldn’t have bin nuthin’ wotsomediver in the univarse? Sintiment is the mother of all things, as owld Father O’Dowd used to say to my grandmother whin he wanted to come the blarney over her. It was a philosopher sintimentilisin’ over a tay-kittle, I’m towld, as caused the diskivery o’ the steam-ingine; it was a sintimintal love o’ country as indooced Saint Patrick to banish the varmin from Ireland, an’ it was religious sintiment as made Noah for to build the Ark, but for which nother you nor me would have bin born to git cast upon a coral island. Sintiment is iverything, Muggins, and of that same there isn’t more in your whole body than I cud shove into the small end of a baccy-pipe. But to return to the pint: I’ve bin thinkin’ as to whether it would be best to set a light to this here little pile in the daylight or in the dark, bekase, in the wan case it’s the smoke that would call attintion, an’ in the other case it’s the flame.”
“That is true, Larry,” said the captain; “I’m inclined to think it would be better seen at night, fire being more powerful than smoke.”
“But they’re more likely to be asleep at night, and to miss seein’ it,” observed Cupples, in a hollow tone.
It may be remarked in passing, that the mate’s voice had become much more sepulchral and his aspect more cadaverous since his arrival on the island.
“True for ye,” chimed in Larry; “an’ who knows, if they did see it, but they might take it for the moon in a fog—or for a volkainy?”
“Wouldn’t the best way to settle the matter be to kindle the fire just now, before it grows dark,” suggested Will Osten, “so that they will have a chance of seeing the smoke, and then, when it grows dark, the fire will be getting brighter?”
“Right, doctor, you’re right. Come, we’ll put the light to it at once,” cried the captain, rising. “Hand me the match-box, Mr Cupples; it’s in the head o’ the bread cask.”