“That will do now,” he cried. “Stand by, lads, and try to catch your breakfast as they come this way.”
The appeal was not in vain; even Tom showed that he had still some life in him. The next instant several flying-fish fell into the boat, while with the stretchers we knocked down others which came alongside. They were pursued by a couple of albacores; one of these would have supplied us with ample food for several days, but so rapid were their movements that we got but a single blow at one of them. It dashed by the boat, and was in an instant lost to sight.
The shoal having passed by, we had no hope of catching more, so we immediately set to work eating those we had captured—more in the fashion of ravenous beasts than human beings. They had died directly they were out of the water, or we should scarcely have waited to give them a knock on the head as a quietus before we dug our teeth into them. When people are situated as we were, they do things at which under other circumstances they would be horrified.
But eight fish had been caught; we had consumed five, and thus only three remained to be divided among us for our next meal. However, even the small amount of food we had taken somewhat restored our strength, and I felt that I could hold out another day if water could be obtained; but there was no prospect of rain—the only source from whence it could be derived.
“If a bird would just tumble into the boat, it would give us meat and drink,” observed Mudge. “We must hope for that, since no rain is likely to come.”
In vain, however, did we look around for sea-fowl; by their non-appearance we feared that we must still be far distant from land. Though we felt the gnawings of hunger, we suffered still more from thirst. When I at length dropped off to sleep, I dreamed of sparkling fountains; I saw bottles of champagne, and bitter beer, and all sorts of cooling beverages,—which, however, in some unaccountable way, I could not manage to carry to my lips.
But I will not dwell longer on the sufferings my companions and I endured; the subject is a painful one.
Mudge would not let us take the remainder of the fish that night, observing that it would last till the next morning, when we should want it for breakfast. We all acquiesced in his decision. He was constantly awake during the night, but the rest of us dozed for the greater part of it. At daylight, when I awoke, I saw that he had rigged one of the oars as a mast, to the upper end of which he had fastened a large handkerchief.
“Rouse up, boys!” he said, “and take your breakfast; we shall obtain relief to-day, or I am much mistaken.”
“Why?” I groaned out—for I could scarcely speak.