The seamen, caring apparently little for the accident, began to pile up the wood they had cut on the remains of their fire, which they scraped to a sufficient distance from the burning hut to enable them to sit round it, laughing and joking as they did so.
“Shouldn’t be surprised but what our bonfire had been seen from the village,” said Paul Lizard. “They will be thinking that a burning mountain has burst forth. Come, lads, pile on more logs. It’s precious cold still, in spite of the fire.”
Fortunately, more wood had been cut for the hut than was required, and this, in addition to the fuel they had collected, enabled them to keep a fire burning till daylight. As may be supposed, no one ventured to go to sleep; indeed, all hands underwent a regular roasting process, sitting now with their backs to the fire, now with one side, now with another, and then facing it, till their wet clothes were tolerably well dried. By the boatswain’s advice they then stripped off their inner garments, which they dried and then put them on again, thoroughly warmed. The latter part of the night was employed in fashioning some fresh handles for the axes out of the toughest pieces of wood they could find, so that they might be ready by daylight to go to work.
“There, my axe is as good as ever,” cried Paul Lizard, as he secured the handle he had just finished.
“And so is mine,” said Tom Wall. “We will soon have the hut up again, and make it a little bigger the next time.”
“That’s the spirit I like, lads,” observed the boatswain. “Never strike your flag while the ship swims. That’s the motto for English seamen; and I hope, lads, you will always stick to it. Now, Paul, just; give us a stave; we have not heard your sweet voice all the night. Just see if you cannot shout as loud as the gale.” Paul thereon, nothing loath, struck up, “Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer.” Paul’s example was followed by others, and daylight broke on them even before they expected its appearance.
Willy was the first to spring to his feet, saying that he would take a run down the hill and up again to warm himself. Peter Patch followed him. They had got a little distance from the bright glare of the fire, when Willy turned his eyes seaward.
“Why, Peter,” he exclaimed, after gazing earnestly for a few seconds, “there is a sail, and not far off the mouth of the harbour.”
“A sail! a sail!” shouted the midshipmen together. All the party sprang to their feet, and every eye was turned in the direction Willy pointed to.
“She is trying to beat in; no doubt about it,” exclaimed the boatswain. “She is a large ship, under jury-masts, but will find it a hard job, though.”