"I'm afraid I'll have to stop that painting," remarked Leonard after
watching them a moment.
"They'll be very glad of it--but why?"
"It consumes too much energy. The men can live on less if they quit
work."
"Oh, I see."
"I think I shall have to cut their food down to half rations. We've been
adrift nearly sixteen days now and not a smoke plume from the
_Vulcan_. She has lost us--if she didn't founder."
"Any chance of meeting some other vessel?"
"Here in the ocean's graveyard?"
"Are we far in?" inquired Smith with rising concern.
"Close to three hundred miles, and getting deeper every day."
The two walked on mechanically, with the precise step of those who seek
exercise. The rim of the sun cut the edge of the ocean and a long trail
of light made the east difficult for their eyes.
"Any danger of starving?" questioned Caradoc, staring moth-like at the
blinding disc of flame.
"Perhaps not," meditated Madden. "I've been thinking about it. As a last
resort this seaweed is edible, at any rate certain species of it. The
Chinese and Japanese eat it, but that isn't much of a recommendation to
a European. Then the water is full of fish that come to nibble at the
stuff."
Caradoc was obviously inattentive to this consoling information.
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