"I guess they have got a little too much John Barleycorn on board!" laughed Jamison, as the boat gave a lurch which sent him head foremost from his seat. "I'd go and take the wheel myself, only I don't know much about running a motor boat under present conditions."
Frank gave Tommy a quick nudge in the side.
"I can run the boat," he whispered, "shall I?"
"If he'd let you, yes!" replied Tommy.
"Where shall I take her?"
"To Cordova, of course, but perhaps you'd better wait until the men get a little bit drunker. Jamison will become frightened for the safety of his boat before long, and then he won't object to your taking charge of her. He's beginning to look sick already."
"If I ever get hold of that wheel," Frank whispered to Tommy, "I'll send her flying toward Cordova! I hope the members of the crew will be too drunk to know which, way I'm taking them."
Directly the boat gave another tremendous lurch, soaking the boys with cold salt water. Jamison rose to his feet with an oath and, steadying himself by clinging to the top of the cabin, shook a fist angrily at the man at the wheel. The man frowned back.
"What are you doing, you drunken hobo?" shouted Jamison.
The man grinned foolishly but said not a word.