I hustled Tom Myers and his brother George out into the dining-room, and the other fellows followed.
"Is this where you eat?" asked Scott, looking up and down at the long tables, with the swinging shelves above them.
"No, this isn't where they eat," said Harry; "this is where they come to look at victuals, and get sick at the sight of them."
"Sick!" said I; "not much of it."
But the committee laughed, and didn't seem to agree with me.
"You'll be sick ten minutes after the boat starts," said Scott.
"We wont get into sea-sick water until we're out of the lower bay," I said. "And this isn't a boat—it's a ship. You fellows know lots!"
Tom Myers and his brother George were trying to find out why the tumblers and glasses were all stuck into holes in the shelves over the tables, when Harry Alden sung out:
"What's that swishing?"
"That what?" said I.