The yacht was still lying to, about a half mile off shore. The sails hung loosely with not enough air to stir them.
“It’s a nice morning for a row,” suggested Jo. “The water is as smooth as oil. You are the only one who has not been ashore. Want to go?”
“No rowing for me,” groaned Tom. “I’m not a phoenix. I’m going to sit in the shade and fish.”
“Fish!” cried Jo. “What do you expect to catch here?”
“I don’t know,” replied Tom. “Maybe I might catch a boiled cod or something like that.”
“Don’t you want to go on shore, then?” asked Jo.
“Not bad enough to row there,” answered Tom. “Glad to go if you will do the rowing.”
“We will have to take the long boat. The steward went ashore in the yawl early this morning.”
“Early!” cried Tom. “What do you call this? I guess it was late last night.”
“Well, he’s gone, anyhow. We want to get off pretty soon if we are going before the sun gets hot.”