As Cap’n Pem was speaking, the hawsers had been cast off, Mike had started the motor and the screw churned the water. The crowd gathered on the dock, shouted farewells and good lucks and the boys sprang to the taffrail, and waved and yelled good-by to their parents. The Narwhal, gay with bunting, her big sails hanging loosely in the buntlines and brails, slipped into the stream, swung slowly about, and under her own power was headed towards the harbor mouth.
Once more to the boys’ ears came the rousing chantey as the men piled aloft, scrambled out on yards, and manned the halyards and hoists.
The ship she’s a-sailing out over the bar,
Away Rio! Away Rio!
The ship she’s a-sailing out over the bar,
We’re bound for the Rio Grande!
Thus sang the men as the sails rose slowly, with many a rattle and purl of blocks, and the Narwhal’s white wings gleamed in the bright June sunshine. The boys thrilled with pride and delight as they glanced aloft at the tapering spars and taut rigging and at the sheen of sails. As they felt the gentle motion of the deck, Tom and Jim realized that they were once more starting forth on adventures—and this time in their own ship.