“For which I’m very thankful,” responded the owner, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
The fog was lifting more and more, the sun’s rays trying to pierce what was left of the haze.
“You may as well come in, lookouts,” hailed Captain Tom.
“Jed, if you’re through with deck duty,” called Mr. Delavan, “suppose you begin to think of getting lunch.”
“All right, sir,” Prentiss answered, and disappeared.
“Oh, Delavan, man,” groaned Mr. Moddridge, “how on earth can you talk about eating when everything lies at stake as it does?”
“Why, after I get the word,” rejoined the owner, “I shall be hungry enough to eat—anything.”
“But what if the news be of the worst kind?”
“Let us hope it won’t be, Moddridge.”