When at last the captain declared that they had arrived at the grounds he was seeking the boys renewed their attempts of the morning. For some reason, however, all their efforts were unavailing. Either the fish were not there, or they were not biting.
“I believe, Captain,” said John, at last, “that you were more interested in following that man than you are in getting a good shoal for us to fish over.”
“What’s that you say?” retorted the captain. “It’s no such thing. It’s no such thing. I don’t care about that man any more than I do about—you.”
“You have a strange way of showing it, then,” suggested Fred with a laugh.
“I tell you what I’ll do, boys,” said the captain at last. “If we don’t have any luck here by noon I’ll take you across the channel and we’ll try it ’long Cockburn Island.”
“But we haven’t any right to fish there. That’s in Canadian waters,” said John quickly.
“Well, I have a permit,” explained the captain.
“Good for us, too?” inquired Fred.
“Yes, good for you, too.”
Both boys were somewhat dubious as to the extent of the permission secured by the captain, but they made no protest. Swiftly the little boat was rowed across the intervening waters and in a brief time, under the shelter of the bluffs of the island they were seeking, preparations were made for resuming their sport.