In fact the rolling and pitching of the Dartaway under the influence of the ocean swell, was not very agreeable, and all the travelers were glad when they reached the inlet and speeded through it to the quiet waters of Hillsborough River.
They ate lunch aboard without stopping, as it was low tide, and not easy to go ashore across the stretch of mud revealed by the receding water. That evening they emerged into Indian River, a beautiful stretch of water about one hundred and fifty miles long, almost as straight as an arrow, and separated from the sea by a narrow strip of land. Its waters are salt like the ocean, and it is affected by the tides.
As dusk settled down the boys found the scene one of much beauty. On their left they could catch occasional glimpses of the masts of ocean vessels sailing close to the coast to avoid the powerful Gulf stream. On their right was a forest of palmetto and other trees, forming a sort of screen for the orange groves beyond.
“It smells just like—just like—” and Bob paused for a comparison.
“Just like a wedding party,” finished Jerry as he took in deep breaths of the orange-perfumed air.
The river was widening as they advanced, and the air was filled with flocks of ducks and geese returning from their feeding grounds.
“I’m going to try for some!” exclaimed Bob, preparing to get out his shot gun.
“Better not to-night,” advised the professor. “It’s getting dark and you couldn’t see to pick them up if they fell into the water.”
“I’ll have some to-morrow,” declared Bob. “I’m very fond of roast duck.”