CHAPTER XI.
Three days after leaving Suez they saw, for the first time, the Southern Cross, and, on the following morning, they steamed into what, at first sight, Fred and Charlie thought was land, but was simply a wide streak of floating sand which had been blown out to sea during a sand-storm.
At night they were now permitted to sleep on deck—a boon which all three appreciated highly. They took their blankets and pillows on to the poop, and slept with greater comfort than they had experienced for many days, though one night they were caught in a heavy thunder-shower.
One morning, when they went on deck, they found it literally strewn with flying fish. The ship's rats had evidently had a good feed, for many of the fish were gnawed and bitten.
'Would you like some flying fish for breakfast, gentlemen?' the cook said to the three passengers as they stood looking at the stranded fish.
'Are they good?' Charlie inquired, suspiciously.
'First class,' the cook declared; so Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang had flying fish for breakfast.
'I can't say that I consider them "first class,"' Fred said when he had eaten two of them, 'but I am glad that I shall be able to say that I have eaten one.'
'Eaten two,' Charlie said, but Fred ignored the interruption.