When they returned to the schooner after that excursion, Captain McNab was leaning over the side with a grim smile on his wooden countenance. Bob Bowie was beside him with a beaming smile on his jolly red face.
“Good-day, Captain,” cried Fred, as the boat drew near. “Well, Bowie, we’re desperately hungry, I hope you’ve got supper ready for us.”
“I’ve got breakfast, sir,” replied the steward.
“Eh? ah! well, call it what you like, only let us have it soon.” (They clambered up the side.) “Why, Captain, what day is it, and what time of day?”
“It’s Friday mornin’, sir, and eight o’clock.”
Fred opened his eyes in astonishment.
“Why, then, comrades, it seems that we have been shooting, sketching, and fishing all night by daylight, and the sun has set and risen again without our being aware of the fact! So much for perpetual day and a cloudy sky. Come, Bob Bowie, look alive with break—, ah! supper, I mean, for whatever it may be to you, it is supper to us. Meanwhile, I’ll have a bathe to refresh me.”
So our hardy adventurers bathed that morning, over the side, then they supped, after which they turned in and slept all day, and rose again at six o’clock in the evening to breakfast!