“How are we going to work this thing?” said Arthur, as Ransom’s head appeared above the hatch coaming. “We certainly won’t get in to Chicago before morning.”
“We’ll divide up the night into regular watches. Four on, four off. See?” explained Kenneth.
“But who’s who?” queried Clyde, from the foot of the companionway ladder.
“Arthur and I will be the starboard watch, you and Frank will be the port. That satisfactory?”
“Sure,” the other three responded.
“Well, suppose the port watch goes on duty for the second dog watch—from six to eight—while the starboard watch does the dishes?”
“I never heard of a starboard watch washing dishes,” said Frank. “But I think they could not be better employed.”
Kenneth and Arthur went below and began to “wrestle” pots and dishes, while Frank and Clyde sailed the boat.
The yacht rolled a good deal, and the amateur dishwashers found it difficult to keep the water in the dish pan. But if the yawl pitched, it was not unduly, and she always recovered herself easily. Her poise was well-nigh perfect.
Though the off-and-on plan was carried out, there was little sleep for either watch—the experience was too new—and when Chicago was reached late the next morning, all hands were glad to lay up for a while and rest. They considered that the trip had now fairly begun, inasmuch as people had predicted that the “Gazelle” would never cross even the Lake in safety. The boys took advantage of city prices and bought all sorts of things and stowed them aboard the yacht. There was enough stuff aboard to stock a small store for a year, yet the yawl did not seem to be overburdened.