“No grub! Why, yes we have, right on board this very blessed dory,” cried Breeze, to whose memory the black man’s words recalled the ship-biscuit, a dozen of which still remained in the little stern locker. The stock of provisions which he thereupon produced seemed to restore both strength and hope to Nimbus, and he fairly laughed when he saw it. “Ole Nim all right,” he declared, “so long he teef keep a-grindin’ an’ a-crunchin’.” As they ate one apiece of the precious biscuit Breeze thought of Wolfe’s praise and disdain of this same food the day before, and wondered if he should ever again see his light-hearted dorymate. In the fresh-water keg so little of the precious fluid remained that they allowed themselves only a single swallow with which to wash down the dry biscuit. On this account their simple meal was as prolonged as though it had been quite a substantial feast. After they had finished this very unsatisfactory breakfast, and had resolutely put away the few biscuit that remained, in spite of their longing to eat them all, Nimbus said, “Well, young cap’n, wot we do now?” “I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Breeze, “unless we try and row to land.” “Wot lan’? Ware he? How far?” “Father said yesterday that Sable Island bore due west 365 miles from where we were then. We must have come, let me see, seven and a half knots an hour for fourteen hours would be 105 miles. From 365, that leaves 260, and we have rowed perhaps ten. It must be about 250 miles away from us at this minute. Do you think we could possibly row that distance, Nimbus?” “Don’ know. Ole Mim row hard, row long way for grub. But how you fin’ um? Got no compass. How you steer um due wes’?” “That’s so. I didn’t think of that. I don’t suppose the wind will always blow from the southward. Perhaps it has changed and is blowing from some other direction even now, and we don’t know the difference. And to think that I have got a compass here and can’t open it! I suppose I might manage to force the ball open with my knife, but that might break the compass.” “Wot you say? You got um compass?” exclaimed Nimbus, who had listened attentively, while his companion thus thought aloud. “Yes,” replied Breeze, drawing the golden ball from its pocket and unclasping the chain. “There’s a compass in this ball, but nobody knows how to open it.” “Let ole Nim see um,” said the other, extending his great black hand for the trinket. He examined it with the closest attention for more than a minute, and then said, “Nim can open um.” “You can open it?” exclaimed Breeze, in great astonishment. “I t’ink so. Seen plenty all de same like um in de Eas’ Injes.” “Well, let me see you do it.”