“Then here’s to put in a whole day, fishing over on that pier at the beach,” declared Nick, making a run for the place where the three motor boats were at anchor.
“Whirra! now, if ye do be afther thinking ye’re going to get me goat, it’s another guess ye do be having, I’m telling ye, Nick, me bhoy!” remarked Jimmy, as he also hastened away.
And they kept diligently at it through the better part of the entire day, though with indifferent success. Either the fish were shy, knowing the grim determination of the two patient anglers, or else it was a poor day for the sport.
When they mutually agreed to give it up, while they had a mess that would do for supper, neither of them had added any notch to his record for big fish.
As October is possibly the best time of the year to expect quiet weather along the South Atlantic coast, Jack had high hopes that the morrow would see them on their way toward Miami. Nor were his expectations doomed to disappointment, for in the morning there seemed to be not the slightest reason for further postponing the run.
Accordingly hurried preparations for breakfast were made, in order to take full advantage of the opportunity.
All of them were glad when they made the dash over the Lake Worth bar in good order, and found themselves on the heaving bosom of the mighty sea, with their motor boats pointing to the south.
Steadily they kept on, as the hours passed, and the sun mounted in the sky. Jack was ever on the watch for any sign of a change, knowing what such might mean to cruisers in small boats caught far from a harbor.
Jimmy was watching his face, under the belief that he could tell in that way if any trouble threatened. When he saw how the skipper of the Tramp turned his glasses frequently toward the southwest, he took a look in that quarter himself.