"He's Dab's man, not mine."
"Oh, and you mean to be Crusoe number two? Well, don't get cast away on too desolate an island, that's all."
Ford slipped into the library and put the books away. It had been Samantha Kinzer's room, and had plenty of shelves, in addition to the very elegant "cases" Mr. Foster had brought from the city with him.
The next morning, within half an hour after breakfast, every member of the two families was down at the landing to see their young sailors make their start, and they were all compelled to admit that Dab and Dick seemed to know precisely what they were about. As for Ford, that young gentleman was wise enough, with all those eyes watching him, not to try anything he was not sure of, though he explained that "Dab is captain, Annie, you know. I'm under his orders to-day."
Dick Lee was hardly the wisest fellow in the world, for he added, very encouragingly: "An' you's doin' tip-top for a green hand, you is."
The wind was blowing right off shore, and did not seem to promise anything more than a smart breeze. It was easy enough to handle the little craft in the inlet, and in a marvelously short time she was dancing out upon the blue waves of the spreading "bay." It was a good deal more like a land-locked "sound" than any sort of a bay, with that long, low, narrow sand-island cutting it off from the ocean.
"I don't wonder Ham Morris called her the 'Swallow,'" remarked Ford. "How she skims! Can you get in under the deck, there, forward? That's the cabin?"
"Yes, that's the cabin," replied Dab; "but Ham had the door put in with a slide, water-tight. It's fitted with rubber. We can put our things in there, but it's too small for anything else."
"What's it made so tight for?"
"Oh, Ham says he's made his yacht a life-boat. Those places at the sides and under the seats are all air-tight. She might capsize, but she'd never sink. Don't you see?"