“That’s all right,” said Captain Dodge. “In case he is shipwrecked he can tell in which direction he is going anyway. Not that that knowledge would do him very much good.”
“And my diary,” added Pop. “Don’t forget that. I always carry a diary in my hip pocket with a little pencil in it so that I can jot things down just as soon as they happen or rather when I think to do it. You see when you have it with you you are more apt to keep it up to date.”
“A good idea,” said the captain warmly. “I see that you are a very methodical young man and probably I shall get you to keep the log for me.”
“I guess you wouldn’t want me to do that,” laughed Pop. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be done very well.”
All day long the boys lolled about on the deck. Fred had joined his companions and the four friends discussed what they should do when they arrived at Buenos Aires, the beautiful South American city of which they had heard so much. They talked of a sailor’s life and all its hardships and its pleasures. Like everything else it is a mixture of good and bad and too much of either is harmful anyway.
After supper that evening the wind died down. The water became almost as quiet as a mill pond and more than one of the four friends whispered to his comrades that the Finn was at the bottom of it all. George Sanders mentioned this to Captain Dodge in a joking way but the captain only laughed and said, “Wait. Unless I am very much mistaken we’ll have a fine favoring wind inside of two hours.”
His prophecy was soon fulfilled too, for in a short time a damp night-breeze sprang up out of the west. Up came the anchor, the sails were set, and the Josephine slid ghost-like down through the narrows, around Sandy Hook and out into the open sea.
“We’re off, String,” exclaimed George Sanders joyously. The two boys were standing near the forward hatchway looking out across the black water. If Pop had known what awaited them perhaps he would not have been quite so light hearted.