“Now is our chance, come,” whispered Jo.
The next dash brought them to a temporary safe anchorage directly underneath the bridge. So far the practical jokers had rather had it put on them, for they had been badly scared and an occasional wave that came over the bow of the Sea Eagle threatened the two gallant Frontier Boys with a severe ducking.
“Skylarking is all right,” whispered Jo to his comrade in mischief, “but this sealarking is different.”
“If you were going to be hung you would try to pun,” growled Tom.
By stealthy observation they found that there was no chance for them to reach the hood of the forecastle on the forward deck without being seen by the keen-eyed captain.
“Think up some scheme, Jo,” urged Tom, “to distract the old boy’s attention or he will spot us sure.”
Jo thought a minute, then he discovered what he imagined would be a fine scheme.
“You stay here, Tom,” he whispered, and sped back towards the cabin.
“He need not have told me that,” grumbled Tom. “I wouldn’t be apt to stay anywhere else.”