"I've nothing more to say on the subject," replied Bob.
"Well, you are making a mistake," shouted the chief Pirate of the Bounding Deep, as the "Nimrod" scudded by.
No further attention was paid to them, the boys having all they could do to keep the "Rambler" on its course. They came at last to what looked like a favorable spot, and it was decided to go ashore.
This was not accomplished without a great deal of trouble, all hands feeling greatly relieved when they at length stood upon the bank.
While Bob assisted in unshipping the rudder, Sam Randall went off in search of a flat stone. Hammers were then brought out of the tool-chest and all stood around, ready to give assistance and advice.
"Sounds like the Anvil Chorus from Trovatore," remarked Dave, as the work began.
They found the task more difficult than any of them had anticipated, the force of the blow having twisted the rudder almost out of resemblance to its proper shape.
It was at least two hours before the Ramblers, taking turns with the hammer, were sufficiently well satisfied to replace the rudder. It was then decided to lunch on shore, whereupon Dave, with great promptness, stretched himself out under the shade of a tree and went to sleep.
The others brought out smoked tongue, cheese and preserves. Bob declared that it would be unkind to wake the poet laureate the moment he began to slumber, but much more unkind to deprive him of a meal, and they therefore had no alternative but to arouse him.
"Been in school, composing the great American poem?" queried Sam, jocularly.