day, they were very thankful to obtain such shelter. As
far, indeed, as they themselves were concerned, they had no reason to
complain. They had shelter, fire, food, and water.

"Let us see what you have brought, Billy?" said Gerald.

Billy produced three fish, which he had hung over his back. "I thought
that we should want something for supper, and it is always wise to carry
one's grub with one," he observed.

"Much obliged to you for your forethought," said Gerald; and Tim and Pat
were summoned to cook the fish. The fire had been made up close under
the rock, so that it was not much influenced by the wind. In a short
time Tim announced that the supper was ready, "smoking hot," when a
bottle of rum was produced from the provision basket.

"Now, lads," said Tom, as he poured out the liquor. "I do not want to
stint you of your grog, but recollect that we have but a small supply,
and my belief is that it may be many days before we get back to the
ship, so a glass apiece is all I can give you."

The grog was mixed, and the seamen, with their young officers, sat round
the fire, thinking just then very little of the past or future. The
fish were pronounced excellent; while they sipped their grog one or the
other alternately spun a yarn or sang a song. Tom Rogers must be
excepted. He felt his responsibility as commanding the party, and he
could not get over the consciousness that he ought to have returned at
an earlier hour to the ship. This thought weighed down his spirits,
although he tried not to allow his companions to discover his
uneasiness. He felt also very anxious about the ship. If Jerry Bird
was right in supposing that an accident had happened to the machinery,
she might, during the hurricane, be exposed to the greatest possible
danger; and if she was wrecked, they might have to remain for many
months on the island, before they could find an opportunity of escaping.

Tom, before he came to sea, had often read about living on a desert
island with one or two pleasant companions, and had thought that it
would be very good fun. When the reality rose vividly before him, he
could not but confess that he would rather be keeping watch on board,
with a prospect of returning home to see his father, mother, and
friends. When, however, it came to his turn to sing, he trolled forth,
in his rich deep voice, "Cease, rude Boreas," or some other sea song of
the same character, as if he had no anxious thoughts to