The fact was, despite the many raw oysters he had swallowed, Nick was almost famished, and was trying the best he knew how to keep his attention from the slow preparations being made for supper.
But all in good time the meal was pronounced ready. Josh, in lieu of an oven in which to bake his scalloped oysters, had kept the pan on the fire, with a cover over the top; and really it had been pretty well browned.
They pronounced it simply delicious. Nick softened toward his ancient tormentor, Josh, and, patting him on the back, declared that when it came to cooking he had them all "beaten to a frazzle."
"What's that light away off there to the south, Jack?" asked Herb, after they had eaten to a standstill.
"I rather fancy that must be the Hog Island Light," replied the other. "Before we make that, we have to cross another inlet, this time over a mile wide; but they say Little Machipongo isn't in the same class as that last one, for danger and ugly currents."
"Gee! I hope not," grumbled Nick, who was scraping the pan in which the oysters had been cooked so beautifully.
"Then comes Great Machipongo Inlet, and a few more for tomorrow, after which we are due to reach Cape Charles," Jack went on, always ready to impart information when he saw that his chums wanted to know anything.
"This whole coast seems to be a series of bays and sounds, connected by little creeks and channels that, at flood time, can be safely navigated by a boat that don't happen to draw many feet of water," Herb remarked.
"Yes, and that is the case pretty near all the way from New York to the lower end of Florida," Jack observed. "Some day it's going to be possible to make the entire trip as easy as falling off a log. The Government is doing a heap of dredging in lots of places."
"Yes," remarked George, sarcastically; "if they'd only put some of the millions in here that they squander on good-for-nothing creeks in the backwoods, it'd be done in no time."