“Isn’t it about time we thought of eating something?” Nelse asked, suddenly. “Andy said he brought food from the yacht, and I would like to have a bite.”
“Take it all, honey, de ole man ain’ wantin’ any now,” and the cook unstrapped a well-filled haversack from his shoulders. “I’se had what’ll do me fur de nex’ four days.”
“We’ll make an equal division whether there is any chance of your growing hungry or not,” Gil said, as he began to distribute the food. “It is necessary that we husband it as much as possible, unless we can count on seeing father pretty soon.”
“He won’t be able to make this portion of the coast until the wind blows itself out,” the mate replied, “and I advise that we go on short rations to-day.”
This remark was hardly necessary, since the amount of provisions Andy had brought did not suffice to make one satisfactory meal for the party, and every crumb was devoured before the hunger of either was more than half satisfied.
When the haversack of canvas had been emptied, the cook said, as he examined the wound on Jenkins’ head:
“I’se gwine ter fix yer up a little, Marse Jenkins, an’ den we’d better light out ob dis yere place, kase dere’s no tellin’ when dat crowd’s cumin’ back ter see wha’ made de sparks fly.”
The mate would have objected to Andy’s spending any time on what he considered a trifling matter; but the cook did not wait for remonstrances. Using the water in the canteen, regardless of whether his companions were thirsty, he first bathed the wound, and then bandaged it properly with strips torn from Gil’s shirt, after which he said, with an air of pride:
“I ’lows you’se gwine ter git ober dat little scratch widout much trouble, an’ ef dere’s no objection, we oughter keep on till we light on a better place dan dis yere bunch ob trees.”
After the generalship he had shown, there was no reason why the cook should not take command of the party, and he assumed the leadership by setting out at a rapid pace toward the coast, the others following close behind him.
Not until they were within sight of the sea at a point two or three miles from where the boys and the mate were made prisoners did he halt, and then it was to say:
“I’se gwine ter skurmish roun’ fur ter see whar dem debbils am hidin’.”