"Yes, even that," repeated the young officer with a smile, which in the Eagles' case was a perfect roar of laughter at Tubby's keen distress. The fat boy strode off sullenly by himself, gazing at the fog as he went in a very knowing way. They searched the ship over for something that it would be possible to eat; but not so much as a crumb of edible supplies did they find. In one hold was discovered a number of barrels of "salt horse and pork," but they were all dried up and unfit for human food. The same thing applied to the biscuit kegs, and all the other supplies. It was out of the question to think of touching any of them. "Whatever are we going to do?" gasped Rob, a note of real alarm in his voice for the first time. The ensign's calmness served to steady all the boys a bit. "Don't worry; everything will come out all right," he said; "we are in the track of ships, and----" "But in this dense fog, that fact make it all the more dangerous," declared Rob, and the young officer could not but answer him with a nod in the affirmative. "I can't help admitting that, my boy," was his further rejoinder; "all we can do is to trust to Providence and hope that the fog will disappear before long." "Let's whistle for a wind," suggested Rob, who had heard of sailors doing such a thing. "Better than doing nothing. It will fill the time in, anyway," agreed the ensign. The boys squatted in a circle. "What will we whistle?" asked Merritt. "'Wait Till the Clouds Roll By,' of course," rejoined Rob. As the plaintive notes came from the whistlers' puckered lips, Tubby sauntered up, his hands in his tunic pockets. "What are you doing?" he asked, staring at them, "gone crazy with the heat, or what?" "We're whistling for a wind," answered Merritt. "Huh; why don't you whistle for grub?" demanded Tubby, turning on his heel, and striding gloomily off once more. CHAPTER VII. TRAPPED BY FLAMES. Night fell and found them still in the same plight. The fog had shut in closer if anything. Since the last time they had caught the diminishing sound of the _Seneca's_ siren, they had heard no sound from any vessel. Others besides Tubby were hungry on board the _Good Hope_ that night. Then, too, the thought of the tragedy that had been consummated on board the derelict, and the gloom-inspiring presence of the silent figure in the forward deck house, were not calculated to inspire cheerful thoughts. One thing they did have, and that was light. For in the course of their investigation of the old hulk they had stumbled across several old candle lanterns, the candles in which were still capable of burning. One of these lanterns was lashed to the stump of the forward mast, but the other was hung up in the cabin below. For it was in this latter place that the little party of castaways gathered and tried, by telling stories and cracking jokes, to keep their spirits in the ascendent.