Chapter Six.
Owen was awakened by a kick in the side.
“Rouse out, there, you lazy young rascal. Light the fire, and get the breakfast ready,” said the person who had thus rudely disturbed his slumbers.
Glancing up, he saw the first mate standing over him. He sprang to his feet, looking, as he felt, much astonished at the treatment he had received.
“Call the other boy to help you,” continued Mr Scoones. “Be sharp about it.”
Owen made no reply. He knew that to do so would be useless, and would probably increase the mate’s ill-temper. He shook Nat, who was sleeping near him, by the shoulder, and told him what the mate had ordered them to do. The rest of the men were still sleeping. As Owen and Nat went out of the tent they saw the mate take a bottle from a case which he had kept close to where he had slept, and fill up a tin cup. It was probably not the first draught he had taken that morning. Owen and Nat collected all the wood they could find, and piled it up a short distance from the tent. A light was struck, but it was some time before they could produce a flame.
“Be quick there, boys, or you shall have a taste of the rope’s end,” shouted the mate from within the tent.
“He seems in a terribly bad humour this morning,” said Nat.
“I am afraid his temper will not improve if he continues to drink as he has begun to do,” answered Owen. “What I fear is, that the men will follow his example, and that nothing will be done to preserve our lives. However, it becomes the more necessary that we should exert ourselves, and use the sense God has given us.”
“It seems strange that Mr Grey and the other officers should have been lost, and this one have been saved,” observed Nat.