Twenty minutes later at nine-thirty, when the tide reached its height, a few screaming gulls were the only living creatures that the two castaways in the foretop could see. From end to end of the ship, the waves broke freely across the deck, flowing without hindrance into the ruined hatchways, and smashing with terrible blows against the upperworks. Stunned by the horrors they had so closely witnessed, and exhausted by their own efforts, Jim and Jordan sank into a cold uneasy sleep, while the lonely wind whined on through the cordage all around them.
The thrust of an elbow in his ribs brought Jim struggling back to consciousness; at first he gazed stupidly at the bright sky and the drifting white clouds. Where was the white sash frame and the almond tree of his window at home? Or the round scuttle of his poky grey cabin? Then he saw, only a foot or so from his eyes, the red cheeks and sprouting black bristles of a face, and knew where he was.
"Ah, you ain't snuffed it yet, then?" said Jordan.
For an instant, waking up, he had been free of the crushing black burden of his guilt. Now it was with him again. He felt his courage, his energy, his hope, drain swiftly away. "I'm all right," he said.
"Beggared if I've ever been so cold in all my life," said Jordan, beating his arms stiffly across his chest. "That old wind's a proper stepmother's breath, no mistake. Still, that's eased off tidy. It ain't more'n a fresh breeze now."
Every limb of Jim's body seemed to be clamped into position, and at first every move was agonizing. Still, he straightened himself, beat his arms, and looked around dully.
"Blest if you ain't a miserable 'erb, though," grumbled Jordan. "What I can see, you might just as well be dead. What's the matter with you? Ain't you glad to be here? What about the rest of'em — every mother's son — rolling about in the tide down there, with their hair waving acrost their faces like weed?"
Jim stared down at the curiously narrow-looking ship beneath them. He said nothing, for he had no words in him. The sky and sea were a glittering, aching blue; though the ponderous slow swells still crashed along the port side, the wind was falling away fast. He had bathed at Bournemouth in rougher water. The tide had almost left them now, and close to leeward patches of sand were showing, their backs beginning to dry in the keen air. He struggled round to face out to seaward, and there in the east the sun gleamed on the canvas of ships running down-Channel. The arteries of sea commerce were open again.
Jordan's eyes followed his: "Fat lot o' good looking at them. They ain't going to bother about us. What's another coupla masts round here? You and me's got to look up for ourselves. I'm going down again, to see what I can get. You stop up here — you're more trouble than what you're worth. See that line there?" He pointed to one of the innumerable ropes leading down the mast to the deck. "When I holler, heave up on that."
Left alone, Jim sank back against the tarpaulin that had saved their lives, and dozed again, until jerked awake by an angry shout from below. So cramped and dazed was he that his crawl to the mast nearly cost him his life. After trying several ropes, to the accompaniment of abuse roared from below, he at last found the one that was loose. He sat down and painfully hauled the rope in, until a sodden seaman's kitbag came into view. He leant forward and swung this over on to the floor of the top, and was still gazing apathetically at it when Jordan's head came up through the lubber's hole.
"What? Ain't you had a look what's inside, mate? I dunno what to make of you. Some o' them poor swabs below are more alive than what you are." Jordan was a man who lived for the moment; he was puffing with his efforts, and his eyes gleamed again as he grinned and smacked his palms together. "Same as I said, it's like old Robinson Crusoe what our old marster used to tell us about. You want some grub, you got to look round, help yerself, see? Know what, mate? You and me's going to eat! Look here what I got in this bag." He began to ransack the kitbag, producing things triumphantly from it like a confident conjuror: first a square tin of ship's biscuit, then a big round tin of bully beef. Both of these, being sealed, were in perfect condition. Next, he produced a closed billy-can of water.
The first stirrings of life came back to Jim, as the sight reminded his stomach that it had had no food for eighteen hours. With life came curiosity, and the beginnings of friendship for his only companion — in the world, as it seemed. "How did you get all that ?" he asked.
"Used my loaf, cocky," said Jordan, cackling and tapping his temple with a bent finger; "used my ignorant old Able Seaman's loaf. You know that little old store the cook's got, alongside of the galley? Well, that had stood up to it, all right; 'course, the door was locked, but you know we got them axes up on deck for cutting away rigging? Well, didn't take me long to get the door down with one o' them. So we got enough grub to last us a twelve-month or more."
"What about the water?"
"That was easy. We got a drinking water tank alongside the door to the foc's'le, same as they used to have what they called a scuttle-butt in the old days. Ah, but you ain't seen the best of it. Look 'ere, now!" A conjuror once more, he dragged out from inside his coat a flat black bottle with a white label. "What you reckon to a drop o' that to keep the cold out and cheer you up ? Used to do old Dougie good! I went inside the foc's'le, see. Well, you never seen such a sight in all your life — half a foot of water standing in there, with everlasting of old clobber and bedding, and baccer, and chests, and ditty-boxes, all swilling and floating about. You just think — this time yesterday them poor fellers owned all them odds and ends, and looked after 'em, and swopped 'em, and kept 'em tidy. Now they're just a lot o' dirty wet rubbish. Anyway, I knew old Scouse had some o' this what he'd smuggled aboard at Leith. Didn't take me long to find his chest and split it open. And there we are! Pretty nigh full; he ain't drunk more'n a fly's eyeful!"
"You're going to drink that?"
" 'Course I am. So are you if you got any sense." He uncorked the bottle and raised it to his lips for a long gurgling pull, lowering it at last with a deep sigh of pleasure. "Caw, that don't half warm your guts. Your turn." He offered the bottle to Jim.
Jim turned away moodily. To drown scores of seamen and then drink their carefully-hidden whisky supplies! "No thanks," he said.
"Go on, don't act so blessed daft," said Jordan scornfully. "What you reckon old Scouse would do if he was setting up here and I was down in the hog-wash ? Die of thirst ? Go on — fill your boots!"
Jim tilted the bottle, choking at first at the sting of the fiery liquor. But it certainly gave you a glow, setting your innards alight as it descended, and he gave the bottle back with a ghost of a smile.
"Ah, that's the idea. That'll make you talk about your grandma! Now we'll very soon have a bit of grub."
He took his heavy knife out of its sheath, and roughly hacked open the two tins. He handed Jim two or three of the square thick biscuits, and prised out a great solid lump of the cold, congealed, fatty meat, which he thrust into Jim's hand. "There you are, then. That'll line your ribs. You won't have to be too fussy up 'ere. You ain't down in the ward-room now, with your silver and your clean glasses, and that cissy old woman of a steward dancing round you. You got to live like poor old Jack now!"
For a long time the two men ate silently and ravenously, cramming great mouthfuls down their throats. They finished the billy-can of water to help out the dust-dry biscuits; then, chewing the last of their meal in a leisurely way, they passed the whisky bottle to and fro and talked quietly of their future.
"Do you think anyone knows we're here?" said Jim. "What about all the rockets we shot off last night? Surely someone must have seen them?"