He found the steward, and booted him gently in the ribs. At least he said it was gently, whatever the aggrieved steward thought of it.
"Now then, Cox," said the skipper, "turn out and find me the cook,—he's one of this pile of snorin' hogs,—and let's have some breakfast."
By the time the grub was ready, Ward and Day were 'on deck' and the sun was beginning to think of doing the same. The two mates looked round the horizon and saw nothing to comfort them. The only cheerful thing in sight was the skipper, and for very shame the more pessimistic Ward screwed up a smile.
"Not so bad, is it?" asked Spink.
"It might be worse, I own," replied the mate. "What course are you steerin', Spink?"
"Straight for Glo'ster," replied Spink cheerfully. "How did you chaps sleep?"
Ward said he hadn't slept at all, but Day averred that he had dreamt he had been locked in a refrigerator belong to some cold-meat steamer from Australia. And just then the steward said that breakfast was ready. It consisted of cold tinned beef, iced biscuit, and melted berg. There were signs of a mutiny among the crew at once.
