"Now don't get scrappy," Larry intervened. "The real test of shipmates is whether they can stand bad luck and remain friends. It's easy enough to like the other fellow when you are warm and dry and comfortable. But if you like him and don't feel like tossing him overboard when you have a stiff neck and your shoes are wet and you're dead for the want of a good night's sleep—well, that shows you're not a fair-weather friend, but one to be trusted."
"Isn't it queer, it is so cold?" said Margy. "This is summer; but I do believe I would be comfortable in a fur collar."
"Always cool off shore and at night like this," Larry explained.
Polly sat down on the floor and threw an arm about Jess, pulling her chum's head to a rest on her shoulder.
"Crouch down here beside me, Margy, and see if you can go to sleep," she said.
Fred was nervously alert and had no wish to sleep, but Ward and Artie were almost dozing where they stood. Artie jerked the horn rope mechanically and Ward tried not to think of hot cakes.
"I keep remembering the way the butter melts on 'em," he told the others. "And the syrup—gee! I think hot cakes are the best food for breakfast I ever ate."
"Stop dreaming of hot cakes and help me spread the blankets over the girls," Fred directed. "They're all asleep. We'll stand watch with Larry, so we don't need to be covered up."
Fred was proud of his collection of nautical terms, and even Artie's sleep-drugged eyes opened a little wider at this announcement. He gave the rope a harder pull than usual.