At a German professor got sore;
It grabbed at his finger,
The prof he did linger,
And now he won’t do so no more,”
chanted Dick, who had a weakness for making up limericks.
“Stow that,” growled Captain Sprowl with mock indignation. “Now then,” he went on, “when you young fellers have quite digested your supper, we’ll set about fixin’ up for the night. You said there was a tent in the ship, Jack?”
“Yes, a light one of balloon silk. It’s seven by nine feet. Is it big enough?”
“Crullers, yes! Big enough for the crew of a down-east whaler, boy. We won’t all sleep in it at once, anyhow. I’ve been thinking that as we’re in a strange place and don’t know just what may be lurking about, we’d better keep watch two and two.”
“An excellent idea,” said Mr. Chadwick.
“Why can’t we sleep in the open?” asked Dick. “It’s plenty warm enough.”