"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.