“You, of all men,” said Glynn, “have least reason to complain, Gurney, for you’ve got fat enough on your own proper person to last you a week at least!”
“Ay, a fortnight, or more,” added Rokens; “an’ even then ye’d scarcely be redooced to a decent size.”
“Ah, but,” pleaded Gurney, “you scarecrow creatures don’t know how horrid sore the process o’ comin’ down is. An’ one gets so cold, too. It’s just like taking off yer clo’s.”
“Sarves ye right for puttin’ on so many,” said Rokens, as he rose to resume work, which he and Gurney had left off three-quarters of an hour before, in order to enjoy a quiet, philosophical tête-à-tête during dinner.
“It’s a bad business, that of the planking not being sufficient to deck or even half-deck the boat,” observed Glynn, as they went together towards the place where the new boat was being built.
“It is,” replied Rokens; “but it’s a good thing that we’ve got plenty of canvas to spare. It won’t make an overly strong deck, to be sure; but it’s better than nothin’.”
“A heavy sea would burst it in no time,” remarked Gurney.
“We must hope to escape heavy seas, then,” said Glynn, as they parted, and went to their several occupations.
The boat that was now building with the most urgent despatch, had a keel of exactly twenty-three feet long, and her breadth, at the widest part, was seven feet. She was being as well and firmly put together as the materials at their command would admit of, and, as far as the work had yet proceeded, she bid fair to become an excellent boat, capable of containing the whole crew, and their small quantity of provisions. This last was diminishing so rapidly, that Captain Dunning resolved to put all hands at once on short allowance. Notwithstanding this, the men worked hard and hopefully; for, as each plank and nail was added to their little bark, they felt as if they were a step nearer home. The captain and the doctor, however, and one or two of the older men, could not banish from their minds the fact that the voyage they were about to undertake was of the most perilous nature, and one which, in any other than the hopeless circumstances in which they were placed at that time, would have been regarded as the most desperate of forlorn hopes.
For fourteen souls to be tossed about on the wide and stormy sea, during many weeks, it might be months, in a small open boat, crowded together and cramped, without sufficient covering, and on short allowance of food, was indeed a dreary prospect, even for the men—how much more so for the delicate child who shared their trials and sufferings? Captain Dunning’s heart sank within him when he thought of it; but he knew how great an influence the conduct and bearing of a commander has, in such circumstances, on his men; so he strove to show a smiling, cheerful countenance, though oftentimes he carried a sad and anxious heart in his bosom. To the doctor and Tim Rokens alone did he reveal his inmost thoughts, because he knew that he could trust them, and felt that he needed their advice and sympathy.