“Gee! but that was what I call a narrow squeak!” commented George. “If you’d told me an hour ago that we should be safely ashore by now, I should have thought you’d gone crazy.”
“It didn’t look much like it!”
“Have you cut yourself?” the mate asked, seeing something dark drop from his chum’s hand.
“That’s nothing,” replied Jack, dipping his hand over the side in the water. “Just a bit of a blister that burst. Let’s look at your hands. Mine hurt, I don’t mind admitting, now.”
George displayed the palms of his hands, which were in no better condition than those of his friend.
Suddenly Jack sprang from his seat and, opening the door of the companionway, dived into the cabin. A moment later he emerged with a dry package of crackers and a bottle of water.
“You think I’ve had my mind fixed on saving the sloop, all the night, don’t you?” he asked, proffering the package to the mate, and stuffing a cracker into his own mouth. “But you’re wrong. I kept remembering those crackers, but we’d both have been drowned as sure as eggs are eggs if we’d opened that door and shipped a sea. This stuff has been in a locker for almost a week, and I’d forgotten about it.”
“If ever you see me turn up my nose at a cracker after this,” said George, munching away, “I give you full permission to kick me from one end of Greenport to another.”
“We’re not in Greenport yet,” replied Jack. “Oh, my back’s nearly broken! I don’t think I could have gone on pumping for another hour if my life had depended on it.”