They walked forward and entered the sea kitchen. Plenty of chopped wood lay stacked. The ship's cook had been a man of foresight, and anticipated labour by putting an axe into the ordinary seaman's hand; also near the wood stood two buckets of coal and a little heap on the deck. There was plenty of coal in the fore-peak for a voyage to Australia. Hardy had matches, which are curiosities at sea in a forecastle, for you light your pipe at the galley fire with rope yarns or shavings, and the slush lamp is kindled by the binnacle or side-light. But aft there are usually matches, because the cabin is the home of elegance, refinement, and luxury, and the captain must have matches, for he cannot light his cigar at the sailors' fire. Hardy first explored the coppers; they were empty. He filled them from the scuttle-butt; why should he use salt water when there was plenty of fresh at hand? Fresh water would cleanse the mahogany beef of something of its brine, and perhaps soften it into complacent recognition of human digestion.
Then the fire was lighted; he could not find the key of the harness cask, so he fetched a weapon from the carpenter's chest, and the staples yielded to his blow with the shriek of lacerated wood. There was plenty of beef and pork in the cask, buried in the horrible crystal in which lurks the demon of scurvy; he turned the pieces over, and selecting the fattest and least ill-looking lump, dropped it into the copper for boiling when the water should begin.
This work, easily recited, cost time. Before he touched a brace or put the ship to her course he must find out where she was. The last entries in the log-book were in his handwriting, and they related the story of the captain's birthday, how he kept it, and his disappearance with a young lady passenger named Julia Armstrong. The latitude was then—N. and the longitude—W. But the drifting ship had measured miles, and her captain must know where he was. This he would find out in about an hour.
The sow under the long-boat was dead. To get rid of it before the carcass stank he stropped it and clapped the watch-tackle on it, and together they hauled the little mountain of what might have proved tooth-alluring crackling and white fresh fat, always sweet at sea, through the open gangway overboard. It fell without a prayer, and the fish that nosed it that day dined well.
Some of the poultry in the hen-coops were dead; a few lived, and craved with fluttering red pennons for drink and grain. Of course Hardy knew "the ropes" of this ship and could lay his hand on anything he wanted. He filled the little troughs with fresh water, and no one but a beholder could have figured the profound gratitude with which the varying row of bills was lifted to heaven. He helped them to grain, and they filled their crops with all ardency of pecking. He cleared the hen-coop of its plumed corpses, and so they sweetened the ship forthwith.
It was about time that Hardy fetched his sextant: the soaring sun excited his impatience; he desired that the ship should be sending his sweetheart and himself home, and the ceaseless waving of those pocket-handkerchiefs just over the horizon teased him with their impertinence, and as a token of distress when the morning was fair and their hearts high and hopeful. His reckoning found the ship's position within a mile or two of her place when he had left her to succour his darling.
"I have it now," said he, "and we must trim sail for home."
"Oh, how beautiful!" cried Julia, and the dog barked in recognition of the girl's triumphant note.
The ship was on the port tack and must be wore to the north. Hardy put the helm hard up and secured it, then let go the fore, main, and mizzen-braces, and the yards, as the ship obeyed her rudder, swung a little of themselves. With the starboard-braces let go Hardy and Julia did not find it difficult to swing the yards. The wind would be almost abeam when the ship was homeward bound, and there were the winch and the capstan to brace the yards well forward if the wind drew ahead.
"Sing out, George!" cried Julia. And they brought the fore and foretopsail-yard, with fore-tack and sheet all gone, round, to their chanty of "Chillyman."