"Pwhat the Ould Nick does thot mane?" cried Barney.
"Hark!" Frank again cautioned. "Let's see if we can understand the words they are singing. Be still."
"We sailed away from Gloucester Bay,
And the wind was in the west, yo ho!
And her cargo was some New England rum;
Our grog it was made of the best, yo ho!"
"A sailor's song," decided Frank, "and those are sailors who are singing. We are not alone in the Everglades."
"They're all drunk," declared the professor. "You can tell that by the sound of their voices. Drunken men are dangerous."
"They're a blamed soight betther than none, fer it's loikely they know th' way out av this blissed swamp," said Barney.
"They may bub-bub-be pup-pup-pup-pirates!" chattered the professor.
"What sticks me," said Frank, "is how a party of sailors ever made their way in here, for we are miles upon miles from the coast. Here is another mystery."
"Are ye fer takin' a look at th' loikes av thim, Frankie?"
"Certainly, and that without delay. Come, professor."