"Und der Gulf of Mexico iss so pig a blace dot he vill look a long dime pefore he findts der terelick! Vere iss der valepoat? Meppy ve could use her und go py Florida, hey?"
"We can't do that. The whaleboat was damaged, and she either went down or drifted off from the wreck during the night."
"Iss dere some odder poats mit der wreck?"
"No. Captain and crew must have used them when they left."
"Den ve got to shday mit der terelick?"
"That's the sizing I give the outlook, Carl. However, we may drop in with some ship and be taken off. That's more than possible, I should say."
Having finished their meal, the boys got up and left the galley. They first looked into the fo'c'sle hatch. Like the galley door, it had been battened down, and a strong, disagreeable odor was wafted up to them. The bunks were in disorder, and Dick opened the deadlights in order to let the air blow through and sweeten up the place.
Off the fo'c'sle was a small room which had evidently been set aside for the carpenter. At any rate, it contained a small chest of tools.
"Bully!" cried Dick, taking an axe from the chest. "We can clear away the raffle and take more comfort on the wreck. If we could rig a jury mast and spread a sail, perhaps we could take this boat into New Orleans. There'd be a lot of salvage, perhaps."
"Vat's salfage?"