“All I want is to shake some of the sea-roll out of my gait,” nodded Hastings. “It surely doesn't seem to be much of a town.”
By way of public buildings there turned out to be a church, locked and dark, a general store and also a drug-store that contained the local post-office. But the drug-store carried no ice cream or soda, so the submarine boys turned away.
There was one other “public” place that the boys failed to discover at once. That was a low groggery at the further end of the town. Here two of the sailors who had come on shore leave turned in for a drink or two. They found a [pg 172] suave, black-bearded man quite ready to buy liquor for Uncle Sam's tars.
Three-quarters of an hour later Jack and Hal felt they had seen about as much of the town as they cared for, when a hailing voice stopped them.
“Finding it pretty dull, gentlemen?”
“Oh, good evening,” replied Captain Jack, recognizing the bearded man whom he had refused admittance to the “Farnum.”
“Pretty stupid town, isn't it, Captain?” asked the stranger, holding out his hand, which Jack Benson took.
“As lively as we thought it would be,” Hal rejoined. “We just came ashore to stretch ourselves a bit. Thought we might lay a course to an ice-cream soda, too, but failed.”
“These fishermen don't have such things,” smiled the stranger. “They are content with the bare necessities of life, with a little grog and tobacco added. Speaking of grog, would you care to try the best this town has, gentlemen?”
“Thank you,” Jack answered, politely. “We've never either of us tasted the stuff, and we don't care to begin.”