"Ketch me goin' into that water!" returned Gregory, "I'll make my abbalootions right here."
And he proceeded to wash his face and hands over the stern of the boat. We were all very much awake now, very hungry, and no longer tired. The swim had opened our eyes. The drowsy moonlight world had gone and given place to one of sunshine. A breeze rattled the halliards against the mast, and ruffled the blue water of the bay in little patches. We hurried into our clothes, while the Chief warned us to keep out of the cockpit, and not get everything wet. Sprague struggled with his shirt, and declaimed his favorite poem in a muffled tone.
"'And the flyin' fishes play,'—And speaking of flying-fishes, where is Simon? Has he had his morning swim? … Oh, there he is, —paddling about like a good one! Swims like a duck, doesn't he, Squire?"
"There's nothing for breakfast except bacon and eggs," said the
Chief.
"And coffee and rolls," added Pete, "what more do you want, you old lemon?"
"No, there are only three rolls. Some of us will have to eat crackers."
"I will eat marline-spikes," said Mr. Daddles, "if you've got any of them on board. I've never seen one,—though I've heard of them a great deal."
"I'll eat crackers," declared Jimmy Toppan.
"So will I," said Sprague, "and glad to get 'em. I might be gnawing a bone in jail, now, instead."
"And there's no milk," said the Chief, "we were going to get some, and some bread, this morning in Bailey's Harbor."