Captain Tom, in fact, knew nothing until Joe Dawson stepped into the little stateroom and shook him by the shoulder.
“It’s nearly eight o’clock, old fellow,” rang Joe’s cheery voice, “and Jed has nearly finished cooking the best breakfast he could find on board. Can’t you smell it?”
“Indeed I can,” answered the young skipper, turning out hastily, and with an almost guilty feeling over having slept so long. What if the owner should come aboard, wanting an immediate start made? While dressing he made a remark of that kind to Dawson, who only smiled.
“Where’s the boat that belongs at the port davits?” asked the young skipper, as he stepped on deck and immediately noted the absence of the small boat.
“Oh, a fellow came along and asked if he could have the boat for a little while,” said Joe, dryly.
“And you let him have it?”
“I figured that I had to,” laughed Joe. “The fellow was our owner.”
“Mr. Delavan? What did he want the boat for?”
“He said Mr. Moddridge was sound asleep, for a wonder, and that he had slipped down for a little early morning exercise.”
“What time did he take the boat?” questioned Captain Tom.