“I think we’d better go ashore now and take our chances at getting a message through to-night,” Frank said. “Maybe we can hire a carriage in Dunkirk.”
“Well now, I hate to interfere with your plans,” the captain said, “but I’m behindhand now, and I can’t stop to put you ashore. You’ll have to wait until morning.”
“One of us could swim ashore and send a message,” put in Ned. “We really ought to send one.”
“Well, go below to the engine room and get dried out first,” the captain advised. “The river is full of rocks here and it’s a bad place to swim. The banks are a mass of muck, like quick-sand, dangerous to venture into. You get your clothes off and we’ll soon have ’em dry. By that time we’ll be in a better place for swimming. Besides you must be hungry. We’re under way again.”
As he spoke there was a throbbing to the barge that told the boys the engine had been started. The anchor was hauled up and the boat again started up the river. It was too dark to see more than the dim outline of the big gas bag as it rested partly on shore and partly in the water.
“Yes, I guess drying-out wouldn’t hurt us,” Frank said. “But after that we must get word to the folks if we have to walk ten miles.”
“That’s right,” agreed his chums.
“Suit yourselves,” the captain said. “Now come on with me and I’ll fix you up.”
He led the way to the engine room, and turned the boys over to one of the deck hands. The latter collected from the men some old garments the boys could don while their own were drying. Their change consisted of nothing but a jumper and a pair of overalls each, but it was warm in the engine room and they did not mind. Their soaking clothing and shoes were soon in the process of steaming dry on hot pipes.
“‘All’s well that ends well’” quoted Frank. “We certainly did have a strenuous time of it for a while though.”