Four Afloat: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Water. Barbour Ralph Henry

and the ice box and shelves above were full. Doubtless they had taken aboard a great deal more than they would stand in need of, but that is an error that most inexperienced mariners commit. Save for such things as eggs and butter and bread, their provisions were mostly canned or preserved. At eleven Nelson busied himself with the engine, filling his oil cans and cups, cleaning and polishing. The batteries were brand new and so was the wiring, and when he tried the spark he smiled his satisfaction.

      “Fat and purple,” he muttered.

      “Who is?” asked Tom resentfully as he slammed down the lid of the ice box.

      “The spark, Tommy, my boy,” was the reply. “I was not referring to you; you’re not purple, are you?”

      “No, nor fat, either. Say, what’s this? I thought it was something to eat at first.”

      “That,” answered Nelson, “is something you’ll become better acquainted with to-morrow, Tommy. That is a nice quart can of metal polish.”

      “Huh! I’d like to know what I’ve got to do with it!”

      “Oh, the cook always shines the bright-work.”

      “Now, look here – ”

      “Careful,” warned Nelson, “or we’ll put you in irons for mutiny.”

      “Guess the iron wouldn’t be any worse than the brass,” said Tom with a grin.

      At half-past eleven all was in readiness. One of the yard hands threw off the mooring rope and Bob took the wheel. Dan and Tom stood at the engine-room door and watched Nelson as he turned on the gasoline, looked to his vaporizer valve, and closed his battery switch.

      “All clear?” he shouted.

      “All clear!” answered Bob.

      Nelson opened the valve at the vaporizer and turned over the fly wheel. The engine hummed, and from without came the steady chug-chug, chug-chug of the exhaust. Then, with Nelson at the lever and moving at half speed, the launch pointed her nose toward the outer harbor. The cruise of the Vagabond had begun.

      CHAPTER III – WHEREIN DAN PRACTICES STEERING

      Never was there a brighter, more perfect June day! Low down in the south a few long cloud-streamers floated, but for the rest the heavens were as clear as though the old lady in the nursery rhyme who swept the cobwebs out of the sky had just finished her task. In the east where sky and sea came together it was hard to tell at first glance where one left off and the other began. Golden sunlight glinted the dancing waves, and a fresh little breeze from the southwest held the Vagabond’s pennants stiffly from the poles.

      The grassy slopes of Fort Independence looked startlingly green across the water, and the sails of the yachts and ships which dotted the harbor were never whiter. But, although the sun shone strongly, it was more of a spring day than a summer one, and the four aboard the Vagabond were glad to slip on their sweaters when the point of Deer Island had been rounded and the breeze met them unobstructed. Bob set the boat’s nose northwest and headed for Cape Ann.

      So far they had made no definite plans save for the first day’s cruise. They intended to make Gloucester, a matter of twenty-six miles, to-day and lie over there until morning. After that the journey was yet to arrange. There was talk of a run to the Isle of Shoals, and so on up to Portland, Bob’s home; but Dan, for his part, wanted to get to New York for a day. And just now they were too taken up with the present to plan for the future.

      The Vagabond was reeling off ten miles an hour, and Nelson had returned to the cockpit, greatly to the alarm of Tom, who was of the opinion that Nelson ought to stay below and keep his eye on the engine. Nelson, however, convinced him that that wasn’t necessary. Bob still held the wheel, and was having a fine time.

      “It’s more fun than a circus,” he declared. “It works so dead easy, you know! How long will it take us to make Gloucester, Nelson?”

      “Oh, call it three hours at the outside, if nothing happens.”

      “If nothing happens!” exclaimed Tom uneasily. “What could happen?” He looked doubtfully at the open water toward which they were speeding.

      “Lots of things,” answered Nelson, with a wink at Dan. “The engine might break down, or we might run on a rock or a sand bar, or you might get too near the edge of the boat and tip it over, or – ”

      “Thought you said we were going to keep near the shore,” Tom objected.

      “We’re only a mile out now.”

      “Yes, bu-bu-bu-but we’re going farther every mi-mi-minute!”

      “Tommy’s getting scared,” said Dan. “You didn’t mind that little jaunt in Peconic Bay last summer.”

      “Well, that was a pu-pond and this is the ocean,” was the answer.

      “It looked mighty little like a pond at one time,” said Bob. “Besides, you could have drowned just as easy there as you can here, Tommy.”

      “Anyhow,” added Dan soothingly, “you couldn’t drown if you tried. You’re so fat you can’t sink.”

      “I can su-su-swim under water as well as you cu-cu-cu-can!”

      “What’s the town over there, Nelson?” Bob interrupted.

      “Winthrop; and that’s Nahant ahead. You might head her in a bit more until Tommy gets his sea legs.”

      Bob turned the wheel a mite and the launch’s bow swung further inshore.

      “What time is it?” asked Dan.

      “Just twelve,” answered Nelson, glancing at the clock.

      “Well, what time do we feed?”

      “About one, I suppose,” answered Nelson. “Who’s hungry?”

      Dan groaned. “I, for one. I could eat nails.”

      “Same here,” said Bob. “Tommy, you get busy, like a good little cookie, and fry a few thousand eggs.”

      “And make some coffee,” added Dan.

      “All right,” Tom replied. “Only there’s a lot of canned baked beans down there. What’s the matter with those?”

      “Search me,” said Dan. “Suppose you heat some up and we’ll find out. Beans sound better than eggs to yours truly.”

      “I suppose that, as Tom’s the cook, he had better give us what he thinks best,” said Nelson.

      “Maybe,” Dan replied, “only it gives him a terrible power over the rest of us. If he should get a grouch, we might have nothing but pilot bread and water.”

      “You’ll have to be good to me,” said Tom with a grin as he started down the steps to the engine room.

      “Oh, we will be,” answered Dan earnestly; and to give weight to his words he aided Tom’s descent with a gentle but well-placed kick.

      “You get short rations for that,” sung out the cook from below.

      “If I do, I’ll go down there and eat up the ice box!”

      “Say, Nelson,” sang out Bob, “what about that sloop over there? It looks as though she was trying to cross. Who has the right of way?”

      “She has. Keep astern of her,” answered Nelson.

      “Say!” came a disgusted voice from below. “We haven’t any can opener!”

      “Thunder!” exclaimed Nelson. “Is that so? Have you looked among the knives?”

      “Looked everywhere,” answered Tom, “except up on deck.”

      “Use your teeth, Tommy,” suggested Dan.

      “Let the beans go, and fry some eggs,” called Bob.

      “Use the potato knife,” said Nelson, “and we’ll get a new one when we go shopping.”

      “All right,”