“And I guess I should,” laughed Toby, “unless I had a life-belt on. Anyway, you might find yourself in the water without exactly falling off the boat. You might be shipwrecked or blown up by a torpedo or the ship might get on fire. In a case like that you want to be able to keep afloat a good, long while. Being a fast swimmer wouldn’t count much. How far have you ever swum, Arn?”
“Me? Oh, not far. Maybe a half-mile. And I guess I rested plenty of times doing it. I’m a punk swimmer.”
“You can dive finely, though,” said Toby.
“Not so well as you can. Say, let’s go in this afternoon over at the beach.”
“What’s the matter with going in now?” asked Frank. “You fellows afraid of deep water?”
“I’m not,” answered Toby. “I can drown just as easily in six feet as sixty. If you like we’ll drop anchor off the end of the island and have a swim. I wouldn’t object a bit. How about you, Arn?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t the water awfully cold out here?”
“Not so very. About sixty, I guess. That isn’t bad. I suppose these tanks you tell about are nice and warm, eh?”
“Too warm,” said Arnold. “I’ll go in if you fellows will. Maybe Frank will give us an exhibition.”