“When are we going to get up?” demanded McConnell. “Can’t we have a swim, then, if it isn’t too cold?”
“Of course,” answered Owen, “though it’s not quite correct. Sailors never swim.”
“They don’t?” asked McConnell.
“It seems funny,” said Allan; “but they do say a great many sailors don’t even know how.” “Why not?” persisted McConnell.
“Sharks, for one thing,” said Owen. “Deep-water sailors get in the habit of being afraid of sharks.”
“I have been thinking,” said Allan, “that we had better, perhaps, draw the Arabella in a little farther, and let the tide leave her there. We should be floated again about five in the morning.”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed McConnell. “I was hoping we could anchor.”
“But if we anchored far enough out to swing with the tide, we would need to show a light.”
“I really don’t think we should need a light,” was Owen’s opinion. “It is rather shallow here, and we shouldn’t need to be more than fifty feet from the shore; though we’ve got our lantern, and we ought to leave it, anyway, in case we get adrift. But I don’t see but that we shall be better off right here out of sight, where we shall be handy to our outfit for breakfast.”
“That’s how it seems to me,” Allan said.