“You must promise me, lads, if that cask contains spirits, not to drink it. Let’s broach it, however, and see.”
On a hole being bored, wine spouted out.
“We should be thankful for this,” said Mr Collinson, “it is light claret, and a small quantity will probably do us all good.”
It was arranged that a pint of wine only should be taken by each of them every day. This would save the consumption of water.
“I would rather it had been water,” said old Grim; “though, to be sure, the wine is not bad, and I should not mind if it had been a little stronger.”
The calm continued. The sea was like glass. Chips of wood, even some feathers, thrown overboard, did not move from the side of the vessel. There she lay, her battered sides reflected in the mirror-like surface of the ocean. Now her head slowly moved round in one direction, now in another, but no progress was made. At night they lay down, hoping that the morning would bring a breeze; but when the morning sun began its upward course, his rays getting hotter and hotter, till the pitch in the seams bubbled and hissed, on he went, passing almost overhead, till he again glided down into his ocean bed in the west.
Chapter Fourteen.
Day after day, the brig floated on the motionless ocean. The water was almost exhausted, so also was the cask of claret. There was still some food remaining, but, without water, it would be of little avail in keeping those on board the brig alive. Grimshaw had hitherto kept up his spirits, as well as the rest of the party, but he and Tommy Rebow declared that they would work no more, that the vessel was doomed to destruction, and that sink she would in the course of a few days.