Each boat was supplied with one of those splendid Juwel kerosene burning gas stoves, which burn common oil turned into a delightful blue flame by the process of a generator. Once this was started, all manner of cooking could be carried on. Indeed, it is simply astonishing how much can be accomplished by means of this clever little device, which most canoeists carry with them as a necessity, as well as a comfort.
The boys had tied up in such a way that they could call out to one another, as the humor seized them. And hence, there was more or less exchange of comments on the bill of fare for supper that evening.
When the meal had been finished night was at hand, though only for the storm no doubt the sun might still have been seen shining in the low west. Jimmy got out his banjo, and the musical plunkety-plunk of its strings, now and then accompanying one of his jolly songs, did much to cheer them up.
Jack busied himself with his charts meanwhile, for there was a nasty little experience awaiting them when they reached Lewes, where they must watch for a favorable opportunity to pass out upon the open Atlantic, and cover ten miles or so like a covey of frightened partridges, heading for the inlet to Rehoboth Bay, and actually passing around Cape Henlopen, since boats the size of theirs could not well be carted across the land to Love Creek, as if they were canoes.
Nick busied himself with the last of the oysters, which he had made sure to throw aboard the Wireless, and had found no time up to now, to tackle. George was tinkering with his motor, a customary amusement with him; for his heart was bent on learning how to coax yet another bit of speed from the engine that racked his boat so terribly when put at full speed.
On the Comfort, Josh and Herb, with room to spare, were having a game of dominoes, and enjoying themselves very much. This was the time when the joy of having plenty of elbow room made itself manifest.
Later on, during a little lull in the rainfall, Jack crept out to take observation, just as though he might have been an old salt, on board a sea-going vessel.
The storm was raging quite furiously, and made a roar that must have seemed more or less terrifying, had one been out on the big bay, instead of having this snug harbor.
"Whether this is Murderkill Creek, or the one rejoicing in the aristocratic name of Jones, it doesn't matter one cent," he declared, as he turned to Jimmy, who had followed him outside for a breath of air before laying down to sleep. "Just listen to that howl out yonder, and then call this bully place a bad name, will you? Let her whoop it up as she pleases, we can laugh, and sleep in peace; for there's good ground between us and the raging sea. Hear the waves break on shore, would you, Jimmy? Starting out by rescuing a poor chap from a watery grave did bring us good luck, now, I'm thinking."