I was glad to know from this that the Phoebe had escaped.
I knew by the tone of voice and manners of the old man that he was a gentleman, and, from his expressions, I guessed that he was a naval officer; but I felt a delicacy in putting questions to him, though I was anxious to learn who he was.
“We must not eat the bread of idleness,” I said, when the meal was over. “Is there no work you would wish us to do?”
“All you can do now, my lads, is to lie down and rest,” he answered, smiling. “When you are recovered, you will have to put up a hut for yourselves, and to cultivate some ground, as perhaps you may have to remain here as long as I have done.”
“We must not go to sleep without thanking God for His great mercy to us,” said Bill.
I felt rebuked. Without hesitation, I knelt down with my companion near a heap of dried grass and matting, which our host had prepared for us. He looked on, slightly astonished, but I heard him utter “Amen” at the end of my prayer.
Worn out with fatigue, we slept on till nearly daybreak the following morning.