Then to while away the hours that were beginning to drag slowly along, the captain suggested that they talk among themselves and exchange stories. This activity occupied the group for some time. Garry was glad that poor Ben was not mentioned again to further depress everyone.
Finally, all became “talked out,” just as they had become “read out” before that. And by this time some were ready for a nap and began dozing in their seats.
Garry watched the captain settle back in his seat, sighing tiredly.
“I suppose I should be grateful for being alive,” he said, “but I feel almost as if I had died myself. Yes, this is a sad day for an old man who has lost at the same time the dearest things to his heart—one of his best friends and a funny-looking space ship that had come to be even homier than his earthly home.”
Garry noticed how much the conversation kept returning to Ben. He guessed that the unselfish spaceman would be on their minds for a long time to come.
“I wonder where they went down, Captain?” Mac asked. “I didn’t even see the Carefree, once Ben cut us free.”
“None of us saw her,” the captain replied, “and I’m glad. I hope they never find her remains on the moon, because I would feel compelled to go to the site of the crash and I would not want to do that. No, it’s better this way.”
Before long, someone mentioned food. There was some mild enthusiasm from the others, but not much. Everyone knew that all there was to eat were capsules that would provide nourishment but little enjoyment.
Gino made a face when the capsule bottle was passed to him and he shook two of the pellets out into his hand.
“To think that I would ever have to make a meal of these things,” he said sadly, “I, who at one time or another, have served up the grandest dishes ever put together.”