“Want to come up to the bridge with us?” he asked. “We’re getting under way.”
“Sure thing,” March replied. “I might as well wave goodbye to land. We may not see any for some time.”
“Oh, I think we’ll be seeing land for a while,” Gray replied, starting up the ladder to the conning tower.
“Oh—you know where we’re going?” March asked.
“No, but I’ve got my ideas,” the Skipper answered.
Ray Corvin grinned at March as he stepped up the ladder. “And his ideas are usually right,” he muttered.
On the bridge, March looked over the busy waters of the harbor. A gray mist hung over everything, penetrating sweaters and coats in a chilling wave. March shivered.
“Well, now that winter’s coming on,” he said, “I hope you’re leading us to a warmer climate.”
“I think so,” said Gray, as his eyes swiftly went over his boat, the dock, and the ships in the harbor. “But you never can tell. It might be Iceland or the run to Murmansk.”
“Brrr!” shivered Ray Corvin. “Don’t mention it.”