"Vat ve eat in der meandime?"
"If you thought more of your life and less of your stomach, mate, you'd be better off."
"Vone means der odder. Und vat ve going to do for some vater to trink? Der ocean iss full mit salt."
"There's always a breaker of fresh water aboard these boats on the steamers."
"Den you t'ink, Tick, dere iss some shances for us?"
"Sure, I do! We're doing finely now!"
"Ach, finely! Mit der vater coming down from oferheadt, und oop from pelow, und der vind almost plowing us oudt oof der poat. Yah, ve vas in pooty fine shape, I bed you!"
Night fell, a hideous night, black as Erebus, with howling waves below and shrieking tempest overhead. The boys, nearly dropping from exhaustion, did their feeble best with the oars. They had no time for talk, and needed all their strength for their trying labor.
Minutes dragged like hours, and hours seemed like eternity.
How long a time passed, neither of the boys had any idea. All they could do was to work blindly and doggedly on and trust to luck.