Fifteen minutes later the Grampus was hustling down the river, her screw racing under the terrific impulse of the gasolene motor, and a white line of foam surging across her low deck and breaking against the base of the conning tower.
[CHAPTER II.]
MIXED MESSAGES.
"I tell you somet'ing," said Carl Pretzel gloomily, "I don'd like hanging aroundt mitoudt any pitzness. Id geds on my nerfs, yah, so helup me. For six tays, now, ve haf peen loafing in New Orleans, und eferyt'ing vas so keviet as some Quaker meedings. Nodding habbens. Vy don'd ve hear from Downsent mit a hurry-oop call to ged busy, eh?"
It was nine o'clock in the evening of the day preceding that on which the Grampus had got away in the wake of the Santa Maria, and Motor Matt, Dick and Carl were lounging in the small office of the Snug Harbor.
For two or three days Carl had been restless. He had visited all the five-cent shows on Canal Street, he had made a sight-seeing tour through the French Quarter, he had gone out to Lake Pontchartrain, and he had done various other things to pass away the time and make some excuse for his idleness, but his energetic spirit was not to be muzzled.
"Take it easy, old ship," said Dick; "I'm as anxious as you are to trip anchor and slant away for some port where we can do things, but there's a notion rattling around in my locker that it won't be long now before we run afoul of something real exciting. We were to wait a week on Townsend, and the week will be up to-morrow. We'll hear from him then, and I'll bank on it."
"So will I," spoke up Matt. "Don't be so impatient, Carl. Adventures are all right, but there are a few other things in life for fellows like us to think about."
"T'anks, brofessor," answered Carl, humbly. "Vat else vould you t'ink aboudt oof you vanted to be among der life vones?"