“Oh, yes, about one mouthful to a crab,” returned Billy.
“Not like the ones down at Old Point Comfort and the Chesapeake!—some crabs, those!” said Fred, smacking his lips.
The boys came into Treasure Cove but it was noticed that Fred frowningly sniffed the pungent air with nose held high. And great was their disgust when the bow of the boat ran into an odoriferous mola. The hot sun beating down upon it that day had not improved its condition.
“Gee! another dirty job!” exclaimed Billy, scowling at the prow of the unconscious boat.
“That came back on the flood last night! Now we’ve got to tow it out and see what the ebb will do for it,” said Fred.
“Say, d’ye need us to help?” asked Paul. “If not, Dud and me’ll take these crabs to Mose to have him start boiling them.”
“All right, go along; and if you’re real nice in asking Anna, she’ll help you pick out the crab meat. She’s a wiz. at that work,” advised Billy.
So the two boys engagingly won the governess’ promise to pick crab meat, while Fred and Billy attended to a less attractive duty.
Once more the mola was consigned to the tide, which in this latitude rises and falls about fifteen feet at the full of the moon. Comparatively few miles to the eastward of this longitude lies the Bay of Fundy known all over the world for its hundred-foot tides.
“Say, Fred, wouldn’t it be queer if the tides rose and fell here as they do up in New Brunswick?” asked Billy.