“I wish I had been with him,” exclaimed Mudge; “but I was not, for the best of reasons—I was still in the nursery, and had not thought of going to sea.”
We all said the same, though none of the rest of us happened to have been born at that time, as it was just the beginning of the century. Poor Mudge—and there were many officers at that time, like him, old enough to be post-captains, who were still master’s mates—often sighed as he talked of the events of former days, and I have seen him more than once brushing away a tear as he spoke of his disappointed hopes and blighted prospects.
Day after day we pulled on, each day looking more eagerly than ever for land or for a ship. Our food was rapidly diminishing; and we had barely sufficient water to give us a wine-glassful apiece for two more days. Still, what might not happen in that time? Mudge urged us to keep up our spirits and pull on. Tommy grumbled a little now and then, and expressed a wish that he had never come to sea; but neither Harry nor Popo uttered the slightest complaint. When it was their turn to row, they pulled away with all their might; when they knocked off, they generally lay down in the bottom of the boat and went to sleep. The day was the most trying period, when the sun beat down on our unprotected heads. Even with an ample supply of food and water we should have found it trying; as it was, we suffered doubly. But then came the cool refreshing night and an unbroken sleep of two hours, when we all revived, and felt much better in the morning.
With a feeling which I cannot well describe, we at length emptied our last nut-shell of the salt, strong-tasting liquid it contained.
“I trust we shall make the land before many hours are over, lads,” said Mudge, in as cheerful a tone as he could command; “or maybe we shall fall in with some craft or other. I should prefer the latter, provided she happens to be English, with a good supply of water on board.”
“But suppose we don’t,” said Tom, gloomily.
“We mustn’t think of that, lad,” said Mudge; “we can all easily hold out for another four-and-twenty hours; and we have still some cocoa-nuts, which we must chew to prevent ourselves from feeling thirsty.”
We now counted the hours as they went by. As yet our strength was not materially decreased. Though our arms ached, we could still mechanically labour at the oars when we got into our seats; but I very much doubt that we made as much as three knots an hour.
That next night was the most trying we had yet passed in the boat. We had had no breakfast in the morning, not a drop of water to cool our parched tongues, or even to moisten our cracked lips. We might have made the water, by more economy, hold out another day, but there was no use regretting that now. We felt the heat greater than ever. Tom proposed getting overboard; but there was the difficulty of getting in again; so Mudge advised that we should simply dip our clothes in the water and put them on again, that we might thus imbibe some moisture through our skins. He charged us on no account, however thirsty we might feel, to drink the salt water, pointing out the fearful result which might ensue.
Once more the sun went down, and we tried to row, but could now scarcely move the oars. At length, afraid of losing them, Mudge told Harry and me, who were then rowing, or rather trying to row, to haul them in; and we all stretched ourselves in the bottom of the boat and went to sleep.