ing at the dishes.

"After you; I can wait," replied the boy-of-all-work.

"Sit down, I tell you. When people are shipwrecked they are all equal.
Pitch in," answered Mont.

Stump sat down. There was no bread, tea, or coffee, but a bottle of
water supplied its place.

It was difficult to say what the dinner consisted of. It was a mixture
of fish and vegetable matter, but not an atom of meat.

For some time no one spoke. The business of eating was all-absorbing,
for one must eat, especially after a shipwreck.

It was consoling to reflect they were not destined to die of hunger.

"I think," exclaimed Stump, when he had finished his plate, "that they
mean to fatten us before they kill us!"

"Hold your tongue till you are spoken to," said Mont.

"Yes, sir. I know I'm only an odd boy, but----"

"Shut up, I tell you. I want to go to sleep."

"Certainly, sir. Sorry I took the liberty, but if I don't talk to
somebody I must talk to myself."

"Try it on, that's all, and if you wake me when I'm asleep, I'll give
you something for yourself. I'm just getting dry, and shall sleep like a
top," answered our hero, throwing himself in a corner.

The professor, who was worn out, had already chosen his corner.

Carl followed his example, and soon all slept.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE ATTACK.

How long he slept Mont did not know.

He woke first, and saw his companions snoring like those who are
over-tired.

Nothing was changed in the apartment, except that the remains of the
dinner had been removed.

It was with difficulty that he managed to breathe, and he guessed that
he had consumed all the oxygen in his prison. His lungs were oppressed,
and the heavy air was not sufficient for proper respiration.

While Mont was arranging his toilet a valve opened in the side of the
room, and a fresh current of sea air swept into the cabin.

Evidently the vessel had ascended to the surface of the ocean and taken
in a fresh supply of air.

The others, influenced by this invigorating atmosphere, woke up, and
rubbing their eyes started to their feet.

Stump looked at Mont and asked if he had slept well.

"Pretty well. How are you, Mr. Professor?"

"I breathe the sea air, and I am content," answered Dr. Woddle. "How
long have we slept? It must be four-and-twenty hours, at least, for I am
hungry again; I cannot tell to a certainty, for my watch has stopped."

"There is one comfort," replied Mont, "we are not in the hands of