Now he was hungry enough, as indeed he always was at meal hour and it did not take him long to pluck and dress one of the birds, and in short order it was grilling merrily on the end of a stick.

There was no bread to keep the grilled sea pigeon company, but Bobby did not mind in the least.

Indeed, this lack of variety was no hardship.

He often dined upon meat alone, and now he was thankful enough to have the sea pigeons, or indeed anything.
But almost before his supper was cooked the little fire, deluged with clouds of snow, dried out and refused to burn, and it became evident to Bobby that he must face the night without fire, and resort to other means to protect himself in his narrow quarters from freezing.

He was already ashiver and his hands and feet were numb.
He had no blanket, and no other covering than the wet clothes he wore, and he closed the door of his shelter as best he could with the sticks of driftwood which were stored under the boat.