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Updated: May 31, 2025
It was only a half-hour after midnight when he sat down with Jim to a breakfast of warmed-over beans, corn-bread, and coffee, prepared by Filippo. Budge and Throppy were sleeping soundly. They would not get up until three hours later. Percy envied them, but he ate a good meal. "Now," directed Jim, "pull on those rubber boots and get into your oil-clothes. You'll see before long why they're useful.
"Hope her crew got off all right. There isn't much we can do to help; but at any rate we ought to go out and tow in her boats." "What is she? Fisherman?" asked Throppy. "Most likely! And not a very big one. Shouldn't wonder if she'd had a gas explosion in her cabin; I've heard of a good many such cases. Hope nobody's been burnt bad!"
Two or three times Jim tried to open a conversation, but Percy responded only in monosyllables. He was tired and sleepy, and felt generally out-of-sorts. So Jim gave it up and let him alone. They reached Sprowl's Cove at noon. Budge and Throppy had returned some time before from pulling the lobster-traps; Jim inspected their catch. "About forty pounds," was his estimate.
Everybody was ready. "Going to take the dog?" asked Throppy. "No! Leave him here! He might bark when we didn't want him to." "Here's the gun!" volunteered Lane. "Don't want it! If we had it with us, we might lose our heads and shoot somebody. Whoever they are, they haven't the least idea there's any one on the island besides themselves.
We'll do up that man in the fish-house in short order. By the way, Throppy, did you raise the cutter before the captain smashed your instrument?" "Don't know," answered Stevens. "I was so busy calling for help that I didn't wait for any reply." "We'll know before midnight," said Jim. "Take Parsons's automatic, Perce, and come along with Budge and myself.
The sheep, which were feeding on its top, scampered off at their approach, their retreat covered by the ram, with shaking head. Nemo rushed, barking, after the flock, only to be butted ignominiously head over heels and to retreat, yelping, to the beach. "Bully for Aries!" laughed Throppy. "Who's Aries?" asked Percy. "The ram, of course! Where's your Latin?" "Never heard the word.
The two stiff fins betrayed him. "Swordfish all right!" muttered Jim. "Not quite so big as the other one, but too good to lose! Steady, Throppy!" Foot by foot the Barracouta's bowsprit forged up on their prospective prey. Nobody spoke. Jim's grip on the pine staff tightened; his eye measured the distance to the dull-blue shoulder.
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