"You couldn't rub yourself with oil, and then put your clothes on, without getting them all greasy," observed Tom.
"Then I won't try oil; but the least you fellows can do is to wring me out. I can never get myself dry by rubbing with a towel."
"We'll wring you as soon as we get time," said Charley, kindly. "We'll begin with your neck, if you say so. But here comes Harry with the provisions. Shove the boat off, Tom, and we'll steer for a big cape that is just this side of Islip. The end of the cape ought to bear just east-northeast from the mouth of the creek Joe discovered."
IN THE GREAT SOUTH BAY.
The Ghost was soon under sail again, and the shore was lost in the fog. The breeze freshened a little, but the fog remained as thick as ever. Occasionally a fog-horn could be faintly heard in the distance, but whether it was blown on board a vessel on the bay, or a vessel at sea a little distance beyond the beach, it was impossible to tell.
"We ought to have brought a horn along with us," remarked Charley; "and it would be a good idea to stop somewhere and buy one. We ought to have green and red side-lights too. We haven't any right to sail at night without them."
"Why don't you insist on having a surgeon and a chaplain, and two or three life-boats, while you're about it?" said Joe. "You forget that the Ghost isn't a man-of-war going on a three years' cruise. We can get along without such luxuries as side-lights and surgeons. I'll tell you one thing we do want, though."
"What's that?" asked Charley.
"We want somebody on the look-out in a fog like this."