Now, while the bottle was making its long voyage, Stephen Gaff and his
son Billy were exposed to the vicissitudes of strange and varied
fortune.
We left them sound asleep in the stern of the little boat, tossed on the
troubled breast of the Pacific.
They never knew how long they slept on that occasion, but when they
awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and the breeze had considerably
abated.
Gaff was the first to shake off the lethargy that had oppressed him.
Gazing round for some time, he seemed to hesitate whether he should lie
down again, and looked earnestly once or twice in the face of his
slumbering boy.
"'Tis pity to rouse him," he muttered, "but I think we must ha' had a
long sleep, for I feel rested like. Hallo, Billy boy, how are 'ee?"
Billy did not respond to the greeting. Indeed, he refused to be moved
by means of shouts of any kind, and only consented to wake up when his
father took him by the coat-collar with both hands, and shook him so
violently that it seemed as if his head were about to fall off.
"Hallo! faither," he cried in a sleepy voice, "wot's up?"
"Ha! you're roused at last, lad, come, it's time to have a bit
breakfast. It ain't a heavy un you'll git, poor boy, but 'tis better
than nothin', and bigger men have throve upon less at times."
Billy was awake and fully alive to his position by this time. He was
much depressed. He would have been more than mortal had he been
otherwise, but he resolved to shake off the feeling, and face his
fortune like a man.
"Come along, daddy, let's have a spell at the oars before breakfast."
"No, lad, take a bit first," said Gaff, opening the sack which contained
the biscuit, and carefully measuring out two small portions of the
crumbs. One of the portions was rather larger than the other. Billy
observed this, and stoutly refused to take his share when Stephen pushed
the larger portion towards him.
"No, daddy," said he, "you're not a fair divider."
"Am I not, lad?" said Stephen meekly. "I thought I'd done it pretty
eekal."
"No, my half is the biggest, so you'll have to take some of it back."
Gaff refused, but Billy insisted, and a small piece of the precious
biscuit was finally put back into the bag. The meal was then eaten with
much display of satisfaction by father and son, (a blessing having been
first asked on it), and it was prolonged as much as possible in order to
encourage the idea that it was not such a small one after all.
Billy had not been particular as to his crusts and fragments of victuals
in days of yore, but it was wonderful how sharp his eye was on this
occasion to note and pick up every minute crumb, and transfer it to his
hungry mouth.
"Now, daddy, I'm ready."
He swelled out his little chest, and gave it a sounding thump as he
rose, and, rolling up his shirt-sleeves to the shoulder, seized an oar.
Gaff took the other, and both sat down to the slow, dreary, monotonous
toil of another day.
At first the Bu'ster was chatty, but by degrees his tongue flagged, and
ere long it became quite silent.
For six or eight hours they pulled without intermission, except for a
few minutes at a time, every hour or so, and Gaff directed the boat's
head in the direction to which the captain had pointed when he said the
land might be about five hundred miles off.