“Here we are,” said Mr. Holton, pointing to a medium-sized ship between two other smaller boats. “The Empire. Looks staunch enough.”
The others agreed and then made their way up the gangplank. A white-clad officer came out to meet them and upon receipt of their tickets directed them to their staterooms.
“Large and comfortable,” commented Bob, as he set down his baggage and looked about.
“All you could ask for,” said Joe, who was to share the room with his chum.
The youths spent several more minutes in examining the articles furnished them for the voyage. Then Bob turned toward the door.
“Let’s go out on deck,” he suggested. “It won’t be long until the ship lifts anchor.”
On deck they found everything in readiness for the voyage, and the scene of action below was interesting to the extreme. Crewmen hurried back and forth with ropes, boxes, bales, and other objects, intent upon a purpose. Visitors scurried off the ship and stood by to witness the leaving.
“Everyone probably wishes he were going with us,” said Bob, as the crowd grudgingly stepped back for the gangplank to be pulled in.
The next instant the long-drawn, deep whistle of the boat sounded, and with the ringing of gongs the engines started. A streak of foam arose between the hull and the dock, and the ship started moving.
“Good-bye, America!” shouted Joe, leaning far out over the rail.