"I believe there is a fog factory down this way somewhere," said Browning.
Hodge announced that supper was ready, and they gathered about the table. The White Wings was riding on a steady, regular swell, so they were not shaken up down there, and they found they could eat without discomfort. Browning was hungry as a bear, and he "pitched into the spread."
"Well, I don't know as this is too bad after all," he confessed, taking a third slice of tongue. "We've been in worse places."
"That's right," nodded Hodge. "Pass the sugar. I want a little of this coffee myself. I made it."
"The coffee is good," acknowledged Jack. "It warms a fellow up. A little grog wouldn't go bad in a case like this."
"There is no grog on this boat and will not be as long
as I own her," declared Merriwell. "It's a foolish thing for a lot of fellows on a cruise like this to think that they must have grog."
"Oh, I didn't suppose you had any on board, Merriwell," said Diamond. "I know your temperance principles too well to look for anything like that."
By the time they finished eating all were in much better spirits. No one but Hans had been troubled with seasickness thus far on the cruise, and the Dutch boy had not been very sick.
Hans was called down to eat, and Bart took his place while he was below.