“Yes, yes!” chorused his hearers.
“Wal, one short whistle means we’re goin’ ter starboard; two of ’em says steerin’ ter port; and three, engine is reversed. Don’t forgit it, now.”
“No siree; we’ll write it down,” said Jack. “Jolly well obliged to you, sir.”
“That’s all right, young feller. Whar’ are ye bound?”
“To Albany.”
The captain guffawed loudly; and several of his crew laughed, also.
“Wal, mebbe ye’ll git thar this year, an’ mebbe ye won’t,” he said. “Good v’y’ge an’ pleasant weather!” And, with a wave of his big hand, the captain turned away, for the tug “Juno” was again in motion.
“Dandy fellow, that,” commented Jack. “We’ve learned something, too.”
“But nearly had our trip ended before it was begun,” added Dave.
The late afternoon found them opposite Yonkers. Factories lined the water-front; and the town, rising on a hill beyond and bathed in a mellow glow, formed a picturesque background.