In three minutes more the "Swallow" was furnished with a much larger and better anchor than the one she had lost the day before, and Dick Lee exclaimed:
"It jes' takes Capt'in Kinzer!"
For some minutes before this, as the light grew clearer and the fog lifted a little, Frank Harley had been watching them from the rail of the "Prudhomme" and wondering if all the fisher-boys in America dressed as well as these two.
"Hullo, you!" was the greeting which now came to his ears. "Go ashore in my boat?"
"Not till I have eaten some of your fish for breakfast," replied Frank. "What's your name?"
"Captain Dabney Kinzer, of 'most anywhere on Long Island. What's yours?"
"Frank Harley, of Rangoon."
"I declare!" almost shouted Ford Foster, "if you're not the chap my sister Annie told me of. You're going to Albany, to my uncle, Joe Hart's, aren't you?"
"Yes, to Mr. Hart's, and then to Grantley, to school."
"That's it. Well, you just come along with us, then. Get your kit out of your state-room. We can send over to the city for the rest of your baggage after it gets in."