Author of "The Moral Pirates," etc.
Chapter VII.
The next morning the sky was gray, and filled with flying clouds. The wind was blowing fresh and cold from the northwest, and the boys shivered, until their morning bath set their blood racing through their veins.
"What do you think of the weather, Tom?" asked Charley, as they were drinking their coffee.
"I don't think much of it," interrupted Joe. "It isn't half as good as the weather we had last summer."
"Junior officers will please not give their opinions until they are asked for," said the young Captain, in his severest official manner.
"I think," replied Tom, "that we're going to have a windy day, and I shouldn't be surprised if it rained before night."
"Not unless the wind backs around to the southwest," said Charley. "I think it will blow hard; but it doesn't very often rain with a northwest wind."
"Never mind if it doesn't rain," said Joe; "we'll get wet somehow, you can be sure."
"I think," said Charley, "that we'd better get up our anchor right away, for after awhile it may blow so hard that we'll have to run into some harbor for the rest of the day."