"That's right, Rusty; but I always notice you dodge everything that looks like work, if you can," Cloudman returned.
"That's what he does," sputtered Hicks, who was splashing about in the cockpit, his trousers rolled up to his knees, and trying to use a tin bailer effectively. "And the rest of you are in the same class. Why don't you come on and help me? Think I can bail the whole Atlantic Ocean out of this blame' boat, alone?"
Midkiff had come aft after pitching the anchor overboard. The catboat tugged at this mooring with the action of a calf jerking at a lead-line. It was not at all an easy matter to move about in the jouncing craft.
"Say," said Midkiff to Kingdon, who seemed not at all troubled by either the beating rain or the pitching of the boat. "Say, can't we crawl into the cuddy and get dry? I'm not in love with this."
"Jawn," drawled the good-looking skipper, "I've got a hunch."
"What about?" asked Midkiff. "If it's anything to do with getting dry and comfortable, I vote we follow it."
"I think we'd better get our feet on terra firma as soon as possible," said his friend more seriously.
"In this rain? We'll get everything sopping wet. And it's going to be dark pretty soon anyway."
"You'll find most of our plunder extremely damp, as it is," returned Kingdon. "We took aboard a heavy cargo of water out there. Another night in this crowded cabin isn't a thing I yearn for with joy, old scout. And then—I want to get on to that island as soon as possible."
"Why the haste?" asked Midkiff eyeing Rex curiously.