“That’s more than we can do. We must be thankful that we have got these; and He who sent them to us may send us more when we require them. And now, my lad, the sooner we get some of them down our throats the better, for you want food, and so, I confess, do I.”
“What! eat them raw?” exclaimed Walter.
“Ay, lad; and for my part I could almost eat them alive. But I will try how I can make them more fit for you to swallow. Hand me that bit of board and the axe. Now, just get out some biscuit and the oil.”
Walter gave the articles to the mate, who, kneeling down, cut off the heads and tails of the fish, and separated the flesh from the bones. He then mashed it up with some biscuit, moistening it with some oil till he had made a thick paste.
“Now, try this. But first let us thank God for sending us the food; and may He feed our souls as well as He feeds our bodies.” Saying this, he put a large lump into his own mouth, and quickly swallowed it, adding another portion in like haste, for he was in truth famishing. Walter found the mixture far more tolerable than he had expected, for he had got accustomed to the taste of the oil. The meal was soon finished, and was washed down with some wine and water. Both the mate and Walter found themselves much stronger after the meal, and did not fail again to return thanks to God for sending it to them. They then collected the rest of the fish, which they cut open, and, at the mate’s suggestion, hung up in the sun to dry; reserving two to eat fresh at their next meal. The heat of the sun and the nature of their food made them very thirsty, and Walter especially was much inclined to drink freely from the water-barrel.
“Remember, my lad,” said the mate, “that won’t last for ever, and we must take care to economise it. Just take a little now and then when you feel overcome with thirst. To my mind, under our circumstances it would be as wrong to keep drinking away at our water-barrel as it is for a man to spend his fortune without thinking of the future. That’s our chief wealth just now.”
Walter, after this, followed the mate’s example, and only took a mouthful at a time, when he felt his throat unusually dry.
Onward they sailed, not always in a straight course; for they were obliged to keep before the wind, which occasionally shifted a few points of the compass. They were several times tantalised by seeing other coveys of flying-fish rising out of the water, and darting fifty feet, and sometimes even one hundred feet, over the surface; but none came near them. They saw also dolphins and bonitoes swimming near them, and occasionally caught sight of a large shark, with its black fin just above the water. Now and then a bonito came so near to the raft, that had they possessed a harpoon they could easily have caught it. The mate, indeed, could not resist the temptation of giving one of them a blow on the head with his oar, hoping to stun it; but the creature, notwithstanding the heavy thump it had received, darted off, and was lost to sight. “If I had been wise, I should have had a running bowline ready, and we would have caught the fellow,” said the mate. “I will have one for the next, and if we are quick about it we may get him on board.” The rope was prepared, and Walter kept eagerly on the watch; but the wished-for opportunity, as is often the case when once a chance has been lost, did not return. Two or three big fish came swimming by them, however, but too far off to be caught—apparently to have a look at the strangers passing across their domain.
The end of another day was approaching, and the weather, hitherto calm and fine, gave indications of a change.
“Provided we get a good stiff breeze from the eastward, I shall be thankful,” said the mate.