that the bits were no good and, like the practical man he was,
immediately corrected his mistake.

And now the crew sang merry songs all day bringing out mandolins and
clarionets and cheering Captain Shard. All were jolly except the
captain himself whose face was moody and perplexed; he alone expected
to hear more of those villagers; and the oxen were drinking up the
water every day, he alone feared that there was no more to be had, and
a very unpleasant fear that is when your ship is becalmed in a desert.
For over a week they went on like this doing ten knots a day and the
music and singing got on the captain's nerves, but he dared not tell
his men what the trouble was. And then one day the oxen drank up the
last of the water. And Lieutenant Smerdrak came and reported the fact.

"Give them rum," said Shard, and he cursed the oxen. "What is good
enough for me," he said, "should be good enough for them," and he
swore that they should have rum.

"Aye, aye, sir," said the young lieutenant of pirates.

Shard should not be judged by the orders he gave that day, for nearly
a fortnight he had watched the doom that was coming slowly towards
him, discipline cut him off from anyone that might have shared his
fear and discussed it, and all the while he had had to navigate his
ship, which even at sea is an arduous responsibility. These things had
fretted the calm of that clear judgment that had once baffled five
navies. Therefore he cursed the oxen and ordered them rum, and
Smerdrak had said "Aye, aye, sir," and gone below.

Towards sunset Shard was standing on the poop, thinking of death; it