“Did I knock the compass overboard?” asked Mr. Tarbill.

“You certainly did,” spoke the captain grimly.

“I—­I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did.  Still, it’s on the bottom of the ocean by this time.”

“Oh, dear!  What shall we do?”

“The best we can.  Fortunately, I have a general idea of the direction of our course, and at night I can make a shift to steer by the stars, but it’s going to be pretty much guesswork.”

“If we can’t find the big island, can’t we go back to the small one where we were?” asked Bob hopefully.

“It would be about as hard to find that as it’s going to be to locate the other now.  Still, we’ll have to do the best we can.  It’s your watch, Mr. Carr.  Keep her as near as you can about as she is while this wind holds.  We’ll have a bit to eat now.”

The captain dealt out the food and the supply of water.  The amount of the latter was very small, as they did not have many casks in which to store a supply for their voyage.  Still, no one complained, even Mr. Tarbill being too stunned by what he had done to find any fault.

The day passed slowly, and the breeze kept up.  But whether they were being urged on toward the island, or whether the wind had shifted and was bearing them in another direction, was something no one could tell.  A deeper gloom than any that had prevailed since the shipwreck fell upon them all.

When it got dark and the stars came out Captain Spark was able to direct the boat to a little better advantage, but when morning came, after the long darkness, during which no one had slept well, they found themselves on a vast, heaving expanse of water.

“Where are we?” asked Mr. Tarbill.  “Is the island in sight?”

Captain Spark swept the horizon with his glasses.

“There’s not a sail to be seen,” he said, “and no sign of land.  I thought we would raise the island by this morning.”

“Then don’t you know where we are?” asked the nervous man.

“I haven’t the least idea, except that we are somewhere on the Pacific Ocean.”

The captain spoke rather hopelessly.

“Never mind,” said Bob cheerfully.  “We’ve got food enough for a week, and by that time something may happen.”

“Yes, something may,” said Mr. Carr, with a gloomy look.

“That’s the way to talk, Bob,” exclaimed the captain.  “Never say die.  We’ll cheat old Davy Jones and his locker yet.”

Indeed, Bob’s cheerfulness under trying circumstances was something that the captain had marked with satisfaction.  The very character of the boy had undergone a change because of what he had been through.  He seemed to have grown older and to have a fitting idea of responsibility.  Bob was beginning to realize that life was not all play.

It was rather hopeless sailing now, not knowing whether they were headed right or not.  Still they kept on.  They ate all they wanted, for the food was more plentiful than water, and they knew if worst came to worst they could live for several days without victuals, but not without water.