“Suppose the order comes before the captain gets well?”
“Then the chances are he’ll ask us to carry out the order for him. We’re in pretty good shape to do that, even without the assistance of Cassidy. Our little crew of six can manage the craft, all right. Carl has been taking lessons from Clackett and can look after the tank room almost as well as Clackett himself; and you have learned to run the motor in a way that has made a hit with Gaines.”
“We’ll do, I guess,” said Dick, with a long breath of satisfaction. “With you as skipper, I wouldn’t be afraid to ride in the Grampus from here to the North Pole. Speaking of Carl, though, what’s become of the lubber? He cut his cables mighty sudden, seems to me.”
“He borrowed a guitar from a fellow in the hotel,” laughed Bob.
“A guitar? What does that mean?”
“I shouldn’t wonder if he had gone off to serenade somebody.”
Dick rolled over on his back and kicked the locker with his heels.
“Oh, my eye!” he sputtered. “It’s Ysabel Sixty! But Carl’s been gone some time.” Suddenly Dick hoisted up on his elbow and peered at his chum. “What do you say, Bob? Let’s go ashore to the place where Ysabel is staying. We can look over the fence and jolly our Dutch messmate just as he gets tuned up. How about a bit of a lark?”
“I’ll go you!” chuckled Bob; “but there’s no use starting for two or three hours yet. Midnight is the witching hour.”