"Well, boys, let's try it, anyhow," advised the officer. "If it's dry there, it's wet enough here."
"That's right," responded another. "Damn yer slops, Bill, ye dude; the' 're's good as mine, an' any togs is good enough for po'r Jack. Let's go ashore an' take a look at these Thoryfare bewties."
This seemed to settle it. The boat was made fast, and the men straggled up the pier, talking and laughing as they went.
Tab and Jack fairly hugged each other in delight at this development, and then Jerry opened fire.
"You said you'd been aboard," he began, "what"—
"When I left the bakery," Jack answered, without waiting for the question to be finished, "I said to myself that the fog was so thick it would be perfectly safe to take a boat and row out, on the chances that I might find out something. I meant to get astern of the Merle and give the wind a chance to bring me some of the talk aboard. I borrowed a little pea-pod from the pier behind Staples', and out I went. When I got to the yacht, I found I could lay alongside, for there wasn't a soul on deck. I hauled off my jacket and hung it over the boat's side for a fender, so she wouldn't make any noise, and took the painter in my fist. Then I stood on the thwart and jumped for the rail on the port side."
"You'd have made the devil of a mess if you'd missed it," commented Jerry.
"But I didn't. I got hold, but, Gad, I came near going overboard!"
He stopped to laugh, this time fearlessly aloud, while Jerry chuckled.