"I'm goin' to hunt up some fishing-lines," announced Jim. "Eating deep-sea fish is better than living on food which has killed a whole crew with scurvy." "Which I think your proposeetion is as full of sense as a rattlesnake in August is of p'ison," remarked Broncho approvingly. Then, whilst Jim went after the fishing-lines, Jack and Broncho made their way into the lazarette, and started to overhaul the stores. "Just as I thought," muttered the former, holding aloft an old binnacle-light which he had discovered and promptly brought into use, and peering round the gloomy interior. "Condemned Government stores, and the cabin truck run out." Two or three barrels were standing already broached, with a few pieces gone out of each, as if an attempt had been made to pick out the best bits. "This here pork an' beef is plenty lively for its years," declared Broncho, his hand to his nose. "I reckon it has over a hundred rings on its horns; but you can bet your moccasins it goes pawin' 'round in a man's inside until it has him oozin' with p'ison from his spurs to his sombrero. I ain't none surprised it makes a winnin' agin them onfort'nit' whale-huntin' sports." "And look at the hard-tack," said Jack, as he shook a handful of weevils out of a biscuit. "It's shore inhabited a whole lot. I allow them Kanakas has insides like goats." "Well, there's no time to be lost. The sight of that grub means cracking on for the Islands," grunted Jack, as he hurriedly made for the door. "Can you locate us at all, Jack?" asked the cowboy, as they once more breathed freely in the dime-museum cabin. "Ain't thar no blazed trail we-alls could jump on to, so as to lope into Frisco some quicker'n we've been comin' out?" "'Fraid not; Frisco's a long way off, but I don't think we're more than a week's sail from Pitcairn Island. This breeze'll let her head up within a point of north. I'll get the latitude if I can catch the sun to-morrow, but I'm afraid the longitude will be mere guess-work, as the chronometers have both been allowed to run down." "Wall, you play the hand, Jack; you're up in this ship's game. I just come in blind an' leave it to you, bein' what you-alls might call an amature." "We'll just have a powwow with the Kanakas and then get to work," said Jack, as they left the cabin. On gaining the deck they found the elements still moderating. The _Ocmulgee_ floated high out of the water as buoyant as a cork, and her deck, except where the rollers slopped through the bulwark ports, or an occasional saucy-crested comber popped over her topgallant rail, was quite free of water. At the stern was perched Jim, busily watching three fishing-lines, whilst amidships Lobu still sat gazing at his ebony _tiki_. From the caboose came a thin wreath of smoke, which blew down to leeward in a long streamer. Tari was within, doing all he knew to make a fat lump of rancid pork more or less eatable.