The three motor boats were almost drifting along among the many keys bordering the extreme southern shore of Florida; and the time was just three days after we saw them reach the vicinity of Miami.
They had passed from Cards Sound into Barnes Sound, and marveled at the wonderful construction of the concrete railway arches, by means of which the East Coast Line expected in the near future to reach far distant Key West, passing from key to key the entire distance, often over wide stretches of open sea.
Cape Sable lay not a great distance ahead. Once the little flotilla had rounded this tip end of the peninsula, they would begin their northward voyage.
The prospect for a camp ashore did not look any too brilliant, and as the afternoon waned, even sanguine Jack began to despair of finding any solid ground. In all directions could be seen the interminable mangrove islands, where swamp abounded, and landing was next to absurd.
When the wash of the sea proved too heavy they had managed to keep some key between, and thus far had come on without any accident. Even George’s eccentric motor had been upon its best behavior, but none of them placed much reliance upon it any longer.
“The tricky thing just seems to know when to lay down and quit,” grumbled Nick, when George mustered up faith enough to actually say a good word for the engine again. “It bides its time, and when we need it most of all, it flunks. I’m going to hold you to your word, George, when we get to Tampa, where there’s a chance to pick up another machine to put in here.”
“Oh, all right!” declared the other, “since you agreed to stand for half the expense, why should I have any kick coming? Only I hope the new engine can walk her along as good as this one, when she feels like it.”
“Hang the speed part!” cried Nick, again rubbing himself as though his muscles were becoming sore in a chronic way; “if only the plagued thing won’t prove a quitter. I hate anything that lies down on you, when you’ve gone and soaked your trust in it, that’s what.”
“I think I see a place ahead that looks fairly promising, mates,” sang out Jack, at this point in the discussion.
“Good for you, Jack; take us to it right away. I’d give a heap just for a chance to get out and just stand, without feeling my foundation heave and wabble under me. Oh! if only I had money enough to coax George to buy a boat that would let a poor feller part his hair on the side, like he used to do.”