The brig was now about mid-way between the main land of Central America and Cuba, when the wind, which had been for some time light, dropped altogether. In vain old Grim growled; in vain Jack whistled for a breeze. The water they had brought on board, as well as that in the cask, was almost exhausted.
“It will be pretty well time to be getting this cask filled again,” observed old Grim, as he drew out a tin cupful of water. “I will just go down below, and see about getting up another.”
He was a considerable time absent, hunting about with a lantern in his hand. At length he came up again, with a look of dismay on his countenance.
“Jack,” he said, “do you know I have been hunting from stem to stern, and not a cask, which looks as if it had water in it, can I find?”
Mr Collinson, who was steering at the time, guessed from the looks of the men that something was wrong.
“We ought to have economised it more,” he observed; “it was wrong in me not to warn you. However, we must make the most of what we have got; and perhaps in another search we may be more fortunate.”
“I will have a look,” said Jack; “and here, Bill, you come with me.”
Jack and Bill hunted about as old Grim had done. At length, he appeared under the hatchway, and shouted out—
“Here’s a cask of some sort, at all events: it contains liquor, if it does not contain water.”
The cask was got up.