“Ugh!  I don’t want any more of them to come near me,” said Mr. Tarbill, with a shudder.

The weather was all that could be desired, and the captain determined to make the most of it.  An early breakfast was had, and then the things were taken back to the boat.

“All aboard!” shouted Captain Spark.  “And may we now locate that large island without further trouble.”

“Oh, I wish I was home!” groaned Mr. Tarbill.

The boat was floated without difficulty, and the castaways got aboard.  They rowed for some distance and then the sail was hoisted.  Inside of an hour the little, island faded from their view and once more they found themselves alone on the bosom of the broad Pacific.

The captain had great hopes of the small compass, but he and the others were doomed to disappointment.  The compass proved unreliable, as they discovered that night, when the stars came out.

“It’s no use,” said Captain Spark.  “We have got to sail by our wits, if we ever expect to reach a place of safety.”  And all that day they kept on, not knowing if they were heading in the proper direction or not.

It was just getting dusk of the second day of their voyage, when Tim Flynn, opening a forward locker to set out some things for the evening meal, made a startling discovery.

“The gig has sprung a leak!” he exclaimed.

“A leak!” cried the captain.

“Yes, this locker is half full of water, and all the stuff in it is soaked.”

It was true enough.  The salt water had come in through some opening of the seams of the previously tight compartment and had done much damage.  The victuals were only fit to throw overboard.

“Half rations from now on,” said the captain sternly.

“Half rations!” repeated Mr. Tarbill.  “Why, I’m awful hungry!”

“And you’re liable to be for some days to come,” answered the commander.  “We’ll share and share alike, but every one will have to curb his appetite.”

“Oh, this dreadful shipwreck!  I wish I had stayed home!”

The others wished the same thing.

It was a night without hope, and the morning broke dull and gray, with the promise of a storm.  The wind shifted from point to point until the castaways did not know in which direction they were going, for there was no sun to guide them.  The leaky locker was tightly closed, so that there was no danger of the boat filling from it.

The amount of breakfast seemed woefully small to Bob, and he recalled with a start the wish Dent Freeman, the hired man, had expressed, that the boy who tormented him would have to eat seaweed.

“Perhaps I shall before we’re through with this,” said the lad to himself.  “There isn’t much more food left.”

Still he did not complain, setting a good example in this respect to Mr. Tarbill, who did nothing but find fault, until Captain Spark ordered him to take an oar and with one of the sailors aid in propelling the boat, for the wind had suddenly died out.