Before the amused Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Balfour could stop them, the three boys shot out of the parlor and were off for the wharf. Captain Joe was found, but a charter of this kind was an important transaction—calling for more than the assurance of three exuberant youngsters.
A few minutes later, the bronzed sailor was before Mrs. Balfour, and the contract was closed. The day was Wednesday. At the close of school on Friday, the Three Sisters was to embark the three boys, their stores and equipment, and sail for Perdido Bay. The distance down Pensacola Bay, out between the forts and then along the gulf coast to the mouth of the Perdido and then up those winding waters to the camp site, was not less than forty miles.
The voyage might be completed that day or not, as the wind served. But, after reaching the camp, Captain Joe was to take station there until further orders at fifty dollars a week. Monday morning, Tom and Hal would be carried by the schooner to the village of Mill View in time to catch the early train across country for school.
“Unless Mrs. Allen and I take a notion to come out to the camp in mid-week,” said Mrs. Balfour, with a laugh, “Bob can come in each Monday with the other boys. Captain Joe will remain in camp ready to cruise where you like each Saturday and Sunday.”
Tom looked at Mrs. Balfour in an embarrassed way.
“It sounds big, the way we all been a talkin’ ’bout ouah camp. But I assuah you, madame, ’at it ain’t much of a camp—leastways not as to the cabin. We’ll be proud to have you and mothah come ovah an’ see us, but I hope yo’ won’t expec’ much. It wasn’t made fo’ ladies.”
“Perhaps that’s the reason we ought to go,” suggested Mrs. Allen, with a laugh. “But don’t be alarmed,” and she looked at Mrs. Balfour knowingly, “there are mosquitoes enough in town.”
“There ain’t a mosquito on Perdido,” asserted Tom stoutly. “Nor nothin’ else that’s wrong.”
When Mrs. Balfour and Bob finally took their leave, the boy caught his parent affectionately by the arm.