a spunful of water in their jyntes
where the leaves come out, and orkard plahnts like young pitchers or
sorter shucks with lids to keep the birds off, and a lot of water in the
bottom of them, besides fruits and pumpkin things. Oh, a fellow can rub
along right enough if he likes to try. I could manage; I know that.'
And I believe he could, gentlemen, and that's what makes me say as the
Camel would be just the right sort of fellow to have with us now, him
and old Chips, so long as old Chips had got his basket of traps; not as
he would stand still if he hadn't, for he's just the fellow, if he has
no tools, as would set to and make some."

And the night gradually wore on, with the men taking their turns at
rowing. The boatswain and Bob Jackson both declared themselves to be as
dry as a bone, and what with talking and setting despair at defiance,
they went on and on through the great silence and darkness that hovered
together over the mighty deep, till all at once the boatswain startled
Fitz by turning quite suddenly and saying to him--

"There aren't no farmyard and a stable handy, sir, to give us what we
want. Could you make shift to do it?"

"To do what?" said Fitz wonderingly. "Crow like a cock, sir. It's just
the right time now."

"You don't mean to say it's morning, Butters?"

"No, sir; it's Natur' as is a-doing that. You've got your back to it.
Turn round and look behind you. That's the east."

Both lads wrenched themselves round upon the thwart where they sat, to
gaze back over the sea and catch the first glimpse of the faint dawn
with its promises of hope and life, and the end of the terrible night
through which they had passed.

And after the manner of the tropics, the broad daylight was not long in
coming, followed by the first glint of the sun, which, as it sent a long
line of ruddy gold over the surface of the sea, lit up one little speck
of light miles upon miles to the north of where they lay.

Fitz Burnett was the first to make it out, but before he could speak the
boatswain had seen it too, and broke out with--

"Three cheers, my lads. Put all you know into it, hearty. There lies
the _Teal_. Can you see the skipper, Mr Poole, sir?"

"See my father?" cried the lad. "No! What do you mean?"

"Ah, you want practice, sir. You ought to see him with your young eyes.
He's there on deck somewhere with that double-barrelled spyglass of
his, on the look-out for this 'ere boat."

"Perhaps so