As for the sailor, he was in his glory. He related the incidents of the chase with great minuteness, not omitting the one about the steamer. He even sold small slivers from the handle of his harpoon.
“Sure I can easy make another handle,” he confided to the boys, “but it’s not every day I can sell a bit of wood for twenty-five cents. I must make money while the whale lasts.”
It only lasted three days, however, and the final one the patronage visibly fell off. Even the boys did not seem very keen about going to the tent.
“If it was ambergris in that whale, it would be all right,” Jerry remarked, as he held a perfumed handkerchief to his nose. “But it isn’t and that’s the fault of it.”
The others agreed with him, and that night a gang of men dug a big hole in the beach and tumbled the whale into it. But Sam made a goodly sum, which he wanted to share with the boys. They would take none of his money, however, so the sailor made a liberal donation to charity.
“Seen anything more of Noddy?” asked Jerry of his chums one morning, when they were out in their boat, cruising about the harbor.
“No, and I don’t want to,” replied Bob. “Noddy wouldn’t be so bad, if we could know when he’s coming so as to avoid him, but combined with Bill Berry the two are the limit.”
“That reminds me of something,” put in Ned. “I heard Bill Berry had a job down here somewhere.”
“How’d you hear it?” Jerry asked.
“Got a letter from Andy Rush. He said he was talking with old Pete Bumps, and Pete told him Bill had a job at some lighthouse along the coast. Andy said he thought it was in this neighborhood, and he went on to say that Pete wanted us to try and get him a job also. Andy suggested perhaps Pete thought the work was as easy as the name suggested. Andy says he may come down for a week or so a little later.”