“Yes—sprinkling,” answered Larry, holding out his hand to feel the drops, “but it’ll be pouring in five minutes. We must hurry into our oilskins. There! the anchor light has burned out and we must fumble in the dark.”
With that he opened a receptacle and hurriedly dragged the yellow, oil-stiffened garments out, saying as he did so:
“It’s too dark to see which is whose, but we’re all about of a size and they don’t cut slickers to a very nice fit. So help yourselves and put ’em on as quickly as you can, for it’s beginning to pour down.”
The boys felt about in the dark until presently Cal called out:
“I say, fellows, I want to do some trading. I’ve got hold of three pairs of trousers and two squams, but no coat. Who wants to swap a coat for two pairs of trousers and a sou’wester?”
The exchanges were soon made and the waterproof garments donned, but not before everybody had got pretty wet, for the rain was coming down in torrents now, such as are never seen except in tropical or subtropical regions.
The hurried performance served to divert the boys’ minds and cheer their spirits for a while, but when the “slickers” were on and closely fastened up, there was nothing to do but sit down again in the dismal night and wait for the time to wear away.
“Now this is just what we needed,” said Cal, as soon as the others began to grow silent and moody.
“What, the rain?”