It was two days later, however, before another breath of wind came to stiffen their sail. The heat was almost unbearable by day while the cold penetrated to their marrow at night. Nancy thanked her lucky stars that she had been wearing her overcoat at the time they were struck, and that Mabel had brought hers along. Hilda had not been so fortunate.
When the breeze stirred at last Nancy sat beside Olan, watching how he set the sail into the course he desired. It made little difference to any of the others what direction they took, so long as it brought an end to their misery. The very fact that they were moving boosted their morale.
But the fair wind was only a brief hope. It fell away after a few hours, and the horrible pall of inaction closed down on them again. Sometimes for an hour or so they would recite poetry, tell jokes or ask riddles—anything to keep their minds off reality. In this way the first week dragged by. Not once during that time was there a drop of rain to renew their diminishing water supply. So far they had used only from the lifeboat’s supply, saving the individual canteens for a reserve.
The corporal, Ned Owens, showed little improvement in disposition, even after his mind cleared. He kept aloof from the others and seldom took part in the nurses’ attempts to brighten their situation. The first few days a fever kept him on fire with thirst, and he was violently seasick. Knowing something of what he must be enduring Nancy offered him her portion of water at the end of an unusually hot day.
“You take it and I’ll knock your block off!” Olan flared, when Ned hesitated at the offer.
Rather than precipitate a fight Nancy finally drank the water herself. By the end of the first week the feud between the two men, which started with selfishness on one side and firmness on the other, had grown to alarming proportions. Every time Olan dealt out the water Ned accused him of giving him less than his portion.
One evening after they had sat through the worst heat they had yet endured, Ned demanded that Olan give him his entire allotment of water and let him drink it as he pleased.
“I won’t do it! You haven’t got the grit to restrain yourself,” Olan stated.
Nancy had been surprised to find just before their evening ritual of food and drink that Ned had moved next to Olan on the boat seat.
Suddenly just as Olan was measuring out a portion of water, Ned’s arm swung round and struck him in the pit of his stomach. Caught unawares the keg slipped from Olan’s hand to the bottom of the boat, and the precious fluid gurgled out into the bilge water. While the two men went into a grip, Nancy grabbed the keg from under their feet, but she was not quick enough to save more than half of the remaining water.