Jim had taken especial pains with this meal, probably acting on the belief that grief is lessened when the stomach is satisfied, and all hands seated themselves at the table, which occupied nearly the entire floor-space of the little cabin, looking far more cheerful than one would have supposed under the circumstances.
"There's a big advantage about living here," Joe said, as he lighted the swinging lamp that the interior might seem more cheerful. "Everything is snugger than on the brig. We've got one bunk apiece, and none to spare; the bedding is clean because it's new, while Jim's work is easier owin' to the fact of the galley bein' alongside the dining-room."
"Yes," Bob said, as he choked down a sigh with a big piece of ham, "we're pretty well fixed considerin'; an' if the Bonita had gone to the bottom, or been burned up, I wouldn't feel sore a bit. It's the idea that the same villains we brought off the key to save 'em from starvation have run away with the brig which riles me. Howsomever," he added, as he helped himself to another potato, "it don't do any good to talk of sich rascality, an' we may as well chuck ourselves under the chin 'cause things are no worse."
Then Joe made sure the conversation would not again drift into such a dangerous channel by talking of the needed repairs until the meal was finished and the dishes washed, after which all hands went on deck to enjoy the cooling breeze.
"If we could sleep here it would be possible to take some comfort," Harry suggested, as the old sailor made preparations for his after-supper smoke. "It'll be terribly hot in the cabin."
"Suppose we do that same thing?" Joe said, quickly. "I'm going to spread the foresail as an awning in the morning to make a work-room, and if we should put it up now there'd be nothing else necessary but bring the bedding on deck."
Bob showed that he thought the plan a good one by laying down his pipe and going forward. The others followed, and in a short time the little foresail was unbent, the canvas stretched from the roof of the house aft to a couple of oars lashed to the rail, and the boys made up the beds.
It was fully half an hour before sunrise next morning when Bob called all hands, and the task of repairing the Sea Bird was begun without delay. Joe had his tools and spare fittings on deck by the time breakfast was ready, and Bob mapped out his work during the same interval.
"You boys are to go ashore," the old sailor said when the little party had gathered around the table. "We haven't got much water, an' if you can find a spring it'll save wastin' coal to condense what'll be needed."
An excursion on the island was by no means a hardship, and but little time was spent setting the galley and cabin to rights after the meal had been brought to an end.
"The key ain't so small but that you can get lost on it an' not half try," Bob shouted, as Jim and Harry took up the oars, leaving Walter to play the part of coxswain. "Keep your bearings well in mind, an' don't go far from the shore."
Jim waved his hand to show that the commands were understood, and then the little boat was propelled swiftly toward the key.
Bob watched the boys until they landed, fastened the yawl by tying the painter around a projecting piece of coral, and disappeared in the underbrush, after which he went aft, where Joe had set up a very shaky work-bench and was busily engaged measuring a plate of metal.
"Them two city-bred youngsters are having the worst end of this queer cruise," the sailor said thoughtfully. "To an old moss-back like me, it don't make much difference whether he's on the Bahamas or the Sandwich Islands, providin' there's plenty of grub; but the lads must come pretty nigh eatin' their hearts out sometimes when they think of home an' the sadness that's in it through their disappearin' so mysterious-like."
"It's tough on them, and that's a fact," Joe replied; "but they keep the trouble to themselves in a way that ought to teach us a lesson. A man, or a boy either, for that matter, should put his best foot forward, no matter how hard a place he gets in, an' then half the battle's won before a blow can be struck."
Joe had no opportunity to continue the subject because Bob walked into the cabin. The conversation was growing altogether too personal to please the old sailor, for he knew perfectly well that he had been more than foolish in giving such free rein to his temper and grief when the perfidy of the strangers was first made apparent, and, like many others, he did not care to be told of his faults.
