the decks were set there, carefully rolled up round
their carved supports, and they rested on a stout sea bedstead,
such as might be carried on board for the chief to whom the ship
belonged. Two more chests stood at the head and foot of this
bedstead, and they were carved, as indeed was the bed. It was plain
that all the gear on board belonged to some great house.

But six or eight feet forward of these things, and in the midst of
a clear space of deck, was a shallow square box full of sand, and
on that was set the covered kettle of which our comrade spoke. The
sandbox was that on which a fire might be lighted at sea if need
were, but none had been used on it as yet. Hard by were two casks
lashed to ringbolts on deck, one of which was covered, and the
other had a spigot in it. They held oatcake in one, and water in
the other, as perhaps one might have expected, here where the men
of the crew would gather forward. And the kettle was full of boiled
meat, which was maybe the most welcome sight to us that we could
have looked on. For, if we had managed to forget it, we were
famished.

So then and there we made a royal meal, asking not at all what the
meat might be, only knowing that it was good, thanks to the unknown
hands which had made it ready. There was enough in that great sea
cauldron for two more such meals as this, and the oatcake barrel
was full. We had no fear of hunger again for a time, and if there
was no more to be found by the time this store was ended, we should
surely have found haven or help in some way, most likely by the
coming of some ship in search with the morning at latest.

Now, as I sat on the deck and ate, once and again came to me that
sharp smell of peat smoke, and at last I spoke of it, asking if the
others had not smelt it.

"I smell somewhat strange to me," said Bertric. "It is a pleasant
smell enough. What is amiss with it?"

"What, do your folk in England use no peat?" said Dalfin in
surprise. "Why, we should hardly know how to make a fire without
it. It is peat smoke you smell."

"Why, then, there must be fire somewhere!" said Bertric, leaping
up.

"Smouldering peat, certainly," I said, rising with him. "Under yon
fagots is the only place I can think of as possible--or under the
deck planking."

We went to the penthouse, and climbed on the piles of fagots on the
port side. When we trimmed sail afresh we had hauled it along the
starboard, and had at least smelt nothing of the sm