You’re full of waves and fishes, too,
And if I had a line I know what I’d do.
O Sea! O Sea! O beautiful Sea!
You make an awful hit with me.
O Sea! O Sea! O——”
Just then Hal threatened him with an oil-can and his muse deserted him. Off the light they turned back toward the harbor, running alongside the gray granite breakwater, and Bee found much to interest him. The tide was low and along the wall the seaweed hung in swaying fringes. Now and then he saw a star-fish or a crab, and once the launch almost bumped into the breakwater when he caught sight of a rock-cod and nearly fell overboard in his excitement.
“Hal, do you realize,” he asked a minute later, “that this noble craft has no name?”
“Yes, what shall we call her?”
That led to a long discussion that lasted until they were around the beacon and chugging past Gull Island, Hal thoughtfully reducing the boat’s speed to something like four miles an hour for fear that Bee might see another rock-cod! All sorts of names were suggested, but none seemed just right, and finally Bee said; “It’s no use. All the perfectly good names I suggest you don’t like. And you can’t think of any good ones yourself. We’ll leave it to Jack Herrick!”
“The dickens we will! I intend to name my own boat!”