“We may still reach another island where the natives will treat us more kindly than these have done,” he observed.
Harry thought that there were other islands to the southward, the natives of which were well spoken of. That was all he could say on the subject. How far off they were he could not tell.
They had now a good supply of water; but they had put only a few cocoa-nuts into the boat, and though they had several fish, they would very soon be unfit to eat.
“He who has brought us thus far will still take care of us, lads, if we will but trust Him,” said old Tom.
This was the burden of his address day after day.
The fish they were still able to eat on the second day, so that they could reserve their cocoa-nuts.
They had been living on the latter, with some water, for two days longer, when again a covey of flying-fish passed over the boat, nearly a dozen falling into her. This afforded them the means of subsistence for two days more, then again they had to resort to the remainder of the cocoa-nuts. These were, however, at length finished.
Day after day they sailed on, no land appearing in sight. Even should they reach shore, they were aware that they might be received in the same hostile way that they were before.
The last cocoa-nut was eaten, the last drop of water exhausted. The hapless wanderers gazed with lack-lustre eyes in each other’s faces. What would next happen?
“All we can now do is to lay ourselves down and die,” said Harry.