“Everything moving smoothly over here so far,” came the reply.
“And you, Herb?” continued the commodore of the fleet.
“No fault to find, only it’s hard work; and I hope we don’t have to keep it up all day,” replied the skipper of the Comfort.
“I don’t think that is going to happen,” Jack observed. “Seems to me the wind is dying down. When that happens, the waves must gradually grow smaller. Perhaps by afternoon we may be able to proceed, and hunt for a harbor farther along.”
“Well, now,” George remarked. “I wouldn’t be sorry any, let me tell you, fellows. I’ve been balancing here like a circus acrobat this blessed hour and more, till my legs are stiff.”
“Think of me, would you!” bleated Nick.
“Shucks! you’re like a ball, and nothing ought to hurt you!” declared Josh.
“I’ve got feelings, all right, though,” the fat boy protested. “But I certain do hope we get our feet on solid ground right soon. I’d just love to see a fire going, and smell the hickory wood burning.”
“Yes, it’s something more than hickory wood you’re longing to smell, and we all know it for a fact,” Josh fired back at him.
Nevertheless, they one and all did find encouragement in what Jack had stated. The wind was certainly beginning to die out; and while as yet there could not be any appreciable difference noted in the size of the rollers upon which they mounted, to plunge into the abyss beyond, that would come in time.