After a while Frank went below to examine the interior of the yacht. He found it very comfortable and well furnished with all necessities and not a few luxuries.
“She’s a little boat,” he said; “but she’s a peach! There won’t be any room to spare on board, but we’ll manage to get along somehow. It is plain she was built for not more than five or six, and there are eight of us.”
Bart Hodge came down.
“By Jove!” he said, dropping on a cushioned seat, “I am feeling better, don’t you know. I hated to sail for Honolulu, and now we’ll soon be so far from San Francisco that there’ll not be much danger of arrest. I want to stick by you, Merry.”
“And I hope we’ll be able to hang together, old fellow,” assured Frank. “You have been beating about for yourself far too long.”
“I know it—I can see it now. It’s lucky you turned up just as you did, for I was going to the dogs.”
Frank examined the wardrobe, and a cry of satisfaction came from him.
“Look here!” he exclaimed. “Here are a number of yachting suits. Perhaps we can dig out suits for all of us.”
They overhauled the clothing, and Frank and Bart soon found suits which fitted them very well. In fact, Merriwell was so well built that he obtained a splendid fit, and remarkably handsome he appeared in the cap, short jacket and light trousers of a yachtsman.
“We are strictly in it,” he smiled, surveying Bart. “I’ll go on deck and send the others down for suits, while you remain here and assist them in the selections. I want to keep my eye on Lord Stanford, anyway.”