“But, say, Bob, he said the captain told him there might be a storm, didn’t he? Do you suppose there’ll be one?”
“I can’t see any signs of it,” the other youth returned. “Who knows but that the captain was joking with Cecil? Perhaps he just wanted to get him worried. It’s natural to pick on a sissy, you know.”
Whether Bob was right in his opinion they never knew. But, at any rate, all the remainder of that day and the next passed without any atmospheric disturbance.
“Well, boys, we’ll reach Mombasa tomorrow about noon,” remarked Mr. Holton, moving with Joe’s father up to where the chums were standing.
“Hurray!” yelled Bob. “I’ve enjoyed this voyage, but I’ll be glad to get to Africa.”
“Wonder where Cecil Purl will head for?” laughed Joe.
“Probably straight to the best hotel in the city,” answered Mr. Lewis with a smile, for he also had been amused by Cecil’s feminine traits.
The next day Bob and Joe, together with their fathers, took places at the rail, awaiting their arrival at Mombasa. Several other passengers were already there, and still more came soon after.
Eleven o’clock came. Eleven-thirty. Noon. But no Mombasa.