They did so.
“This,” he continued, “is Captain Crowell, chief officer of the Empire. Captain, this is Joe Lewis, and this, Bob Holton, the young men we were telling you about. What do you think of them?”
The old officer spent nearly a minute in looking the boys over. Then he turned to the naturalists.
“Spirited-looking chaps,” he grinned. “Look as if they’d like to deprive Brazil of every bit of animal life in it. Better not let them have a rifle. The jaguars will all make for cover.”
“Roasting us, are you?” retorted Bob.
“No. What creature, no matter how fierce, wouldn’t be afraid of two mates who captured a gang of desperate criminals all by themselves? You don’t need to worry about these fellows,” he said to their fathers. “They’ll take care of themselves and you, too, perhaps.”
Bob and Joe took a liking to the old seaman and intended to discuss many problems with him in the future.
“Maybe he can suggest something to do to while the time away,” said Bob the next day, when Captain Crowell was again referred to.
“That reminds me,” the other youth blurted out. “There’s a swimming pool in the second deck. Let’s go up.”
Bob readily agreed, and they were soon floating calmly about.