Then he arose and grasped Charley in a vice-like grip, for though fat he was powerful. He pinned the skipper to the deck and sat upon him.
"Say, dearest," he cooed into his ear, "at about what hour will this heavenly-repast be ready?"
"Pull him off—somebody!" groaned Charley. "I hate a man that has to be thrown in the water to—" a thump on the back silenced him.
"May I convey your commands to the Minister of the Interior," asked his tormentor.
"Oh, my ribs! Yes. Tell him to begin at it at once."
"I don't mind if I do," said Mr. Lemons sagaciously; and he disappeared down the companion-way to interview the cook.
"Ain't he a brick?" said Charley, after Lemons had gone forward. "He's a regular one-er, that chap! Give him his meals on time and he's the gamest old sardine. By the way, let us have a sweepstake on the time we drop anchor in South Bay."
"We haven't any money in these togs," said Geoffrey.
"Well, you'll all have to owe it, then. We'll imagine there's a quarter apiece in the pool."
Margaret wanted to know what was to be done. It was explained that each person had to write his name on a folded paper with the time he thought anchor would be dropped in South Bay. The names were read out afterward. They all, with two exceptions, ranged between one o'clock at night and seven the next morning. The sea was running tremendously high and the wind dead ahead. It was now seven o'clock in the evening and with some thirty-five miles yet to beat to windward. What surprised them all was that Jack had chosen ten o'clock and Charley half-past ten of the same evening. They explained that they had based their ideas on the clouds.