The boys answered as cheerily as they could, and hastening up on deck, they washed their faces and hands in sea water, and were ready for breakfast.
The deck was scrubbed clean, and the sea air was pure and sweet. Even Ralph felt hungry, and the fried mackerel, with biscuits and coffee, tasted very good. The fishing was dull that day; no schools of mackerel were to be seen, and the men busied themselves with trolling for cod and hake, or anything that would bite; and before night a long row of fish was spread out on the top of the cabin to dry, much to the boys' disgust. The second night was passed much like the first, in trying to become accustomed to their close quarters; and the third was much like the second. The only excitement was in running down schools of fish; but as this was always followed by the disagreeable work of dressing them, the dainty passengers were earnestly hoping they might not see any more.
"How long before you go ashore, captain?" asked Ben, as he walked the deck uneasily.
"Oh, when I get my load."
"But what do you call a load?"
"Now, that's a question I never could answer. I never saw the time I couldn't get on one more haul of fish. A smack is like an omnibus--it always has room for one more," said the captain laughing.
"You are pretty full now."
"Bless you, no! This isn't a trifle to what we ought to do. Mighty poor fishing this trip. Reckon I've got a Jonah aboard."
"A couple of them, perhaps," answered Ben, with a wink at Ralph.
"The fog is coming on," continued the captain, looking off seaward. "We shan't be able to see our hands afore our faces to-night, like as not."