"You don't say!" exclaimed Will, beginning to grow interested.
It is wonderful how quickly one recovers from an attack of this sort when smoother water is reached. Will was commencing to lose a little of his ghastly whiteness already, while Bluff had started to sigh, as though he thought of supper.
After they had found a safe asylum behind the island Frank thought it best to anchor. He did not care to go too near that sharpie, for the recollection of the three rough spongers or fishermen on board deterred him from wanting to renew their acquaintance.
Bluff immediately bailed out the little dinghy, and set himself to the task of hunting along the shore for oysters. They saw him dipping his arm down again and again, which would indicate that his quest was proving successful. Even Jerry declared that he was now becoming fairly ravenous, and could enjoy a solid meal.
"It's going to be a gloomy old night, fellows. Clouds gathering there in the southwest. From what I've read about the signs, we may have one of those northers boom down on us before morning," remarked Frank.
They were sitting around, enjoying the supper, as he made this remark. Evening was close at hand. The sun had set in what seemed to be an angry glow, with yellow predominating.
"Are we safe right here, if the wind chops around, and comes out of the north?" asked cautious Will.
"Yes, for that arm of the land will shield us all right," declared Jerry.
So the night set in. Darkness gathered unusually early, it seemed to the chums. They had made all arrangements looking to the raising of the complete automobile cover of the boat in case of a downpour.
"I guess there's nothing to fear from the elements," remarked Frank finally.