The break of day found us a tiny speck on the Indian Ocean. We
looked about as big as this (.).

In the morning, after dressing, and shaving as best we could, we
opened our box of food and drink.

Then came the awful horror of our situation.

One by one the Captain took from the box the square blue tins of
canned beef which it contained. We counted fifty-two in all.
Anxiously and with drawn faces we watched until the last can was
lifted from the box. A single thought was in our minds. When the
end came the Captain stood up on the raft with wild eyes staring
at the sky.

"The can-opener!" he shrieked, "just Heaven, the can-opener." He
fell prostrate.

Meantime, with trembling hands, I opened the box of bottles. It
contained lager beer bottles, each with a patent tin top. One by
one I took them out. There were fifty-two in all. As I withdrew
the last one and saw the empty box before me, I shroke out--"The
thing! the thing! oh, merciful Heaven! The thing you open them
with!"

I fell prostrate upon the Captain.

We awoke to find ourselves still a mere speck upon the ocean.
We felt even smaller than before.