"Oh, cutlets, steaks, leg of Bo'sun, shoulder of Bo'sun, and that sort of thing for me, you know," replied the Captain. " The crew can have scrag end, head, liver and bacon, devilled kidney. . . . There'll be plenty."
"Wonder if I shall be tough," mused the Bo'sun. "Anyhow, I'll be as tough as I jolly well can," he added.
"That's a nice spirit to die in," commented the Captain coldly, selecting his second chocolate. "A real sportsman would trail over the side in the water and soften himself."
"Yes, and get eaten by a shark," sneered the Bo'sun.
An idea struck him even as he spoke, and the somewhat peevish and petulant look (with which he had watched the Captain's sharpening of his sheath-knife and his setting forth of plate, knife and fork) changed to one of bright hope.
"I will do it," he cried, and rolling off the raft clung to the side thereof, while the Captain set about the preparation of a fire.
A blood-curdling shriek and bubbling cry as of some strong swimmer in his agony brought him
