As they sat beneath the awning a constantly changing scene of factories, of various craft, and those picturesque jumbles of buildings which are so often seen along water-fronts, passed before their eyes.
While the “Fearless” cut swiftly through the gray, choppy water, churning it into creamy foam, and the wind tore past in heavy gusts Blake’s peace of mind didn’t improve. Presently he rose to his feet.
“Guess I’ll stroll around a bit,” he remarked.
“All right, Charlie,” said Bob.
The senior at the Kingswood High soon observed Phil Malone industriously polishing a brass rail at the bow. Phil’s manner as he approached strongly suggested that of a hare taken by surprise.
“Hello, Phil!” greeted Charlie, pleasantly.
The “first mate,” without stopping work, grunted a monosyllable in reply.
“How’s the world treating you?”
Phil’s views on the subject seemed to be rather indefinite. Blake understood, however, that he had no general complaint to make.
“Say, Phil, we’re bound for the lake. Rather dangerous out there at times, I suppose?”