“One spell more at the pumps!” cried Jim.
We seized the brakes, worked till we could work no longer, then went below, ate some food from the pantry, and lying down in the two larboard berths in the cabin, were fast asleep in a few seconds.
People talk of sleeping like tops. A hard-worked ship-boy will beat any top in the world at sleeping soundly.
For a second night the brig lay becalmed. I doubt that if even a fierce gale had sprung up it would have awakened us. The sun was shining when I opened my eyes. It might have been shining for hours for what I could tell.
I roused up Jim, and we sprang on deck, vexed at having, as we supposed, lost so much precious time. By the height of the sun above the horizon, however, we judged that it was not so late as we had at first fancied. The clock in the cabin had been unshipped when the brig went over, and the captain’s watch had stopped, so that we had otherwise no means of knowing how the hours passed by. It was still perfectly calm. We looked round in all directions. Not a sail was in sight.
“We must get ready for the breeze, Jim, when it does spring up,” I said. “It will come before many hours are over, I’ve a notion.”
I had observed some light clouds just under the sun.
“May be; but we must take a spell at the pumps first,” he answered—his first thought was always of them.
We turned to as before, till our arms ached, and then we ran down and got some breakfast. We knew the value of time, but we couldn’t get on without eating, any more than other people.
On returning to the deck we lowered the lanterns, which had long since gone out, finished bending the sails, fitting braces, tacks, sheets, and bowlines, and were then ready to hoist away. We at once set all the sails we had ready, to see how they stood. To our satisfaction, they appeared to greater advantage than we had expected.