A chorus of approval greeted the announcement.
“How long will it take us, do you think?” asked Herb, who looked relieved to know that, after all, his boat would not be lost.
“Oh! that depends. Perhaps by tonight it may be in apple-pie shape, good enough to hold out till we get to Tampa,” Jack replied.
“Say, looks like we might have the whole bally armada in the hands of the ship joiners at the same time,” chuckled Nick. “Because, you know, George and me want to get a new engine installed the worst kind, don’t we, George?”
The skipper of the Wireless grunted in reply; Nick was evidently running things now with regard to that change in motive power, and did not mean to let his mate draw back from his word.
“But first of all, we’ve got to drag the boat up further,” continued Jack. “You see, if I’ve got to work at that broken place for hours, I’m bound to have it more comfortable than now. Lying on my back would knock me out.”
Accordingly they all took hold again, after the tackle had been shifted. It was not so difficult a thing to do, with six sturdy fellows to pull a rope; and presently the Comfort was elevated at a point that would allow one to kneel under her keel.
Jack made his preparations, and set to work. With the willing Herb to assist in any way necessary, the others of course were not needed.
Josh amused himself after his favorite manner, studying up some new dishes with which he figured surprising his chums some fine day. George could always find plenty to do pottering with his engine, and trying to cure its faults; for hope dies hard in the young and sanguine heart.
Jimmy and Nick took to fishing, because that employment seemed to engross their every waking thought. When Jimmy started out, the fat boy grew uneasy; and before long he, too, paddled away in one of the small tenders.