Part 19 (1/2)
”I declare,” almost shouted Ford Foster, ”if you're not the chap my sister Annie told me of! You're going to Albany, to my uncle Joe Hart's, ain't you?”
”Yes, to Mr. Hart's, and then to Grantley to school.”
”That's it. Well, then, you can just come along with us. Get your kit out of your state-room. We can send over to the city after the rest of your baggage, after it gets in.”
”Along with you! Where?”
”To my father's house, instead of ash.o.r.e among those hotel people, and other wreckers. The captain'll tell you it's all right.”
Frank had further questions to ask before he was satisfied as to whose hands he was about to fall into; and the whole arrangement was, no doubt, a little irregular. So was the present position of the ”Prudhomme” herself, however; and all landing rules were a trifle out of joint by reason of that circ.u.mstance. So the steamer authorities listened to Frank's request when he made it, and gruffly granted it.
”The Swallow” lay quietly at her new anchor while her pa.s.senger to be was completing his preparations to board her. Part of them consisted of a hearty breakfast,--fresh bluefish, broiled; and while he was eating it the crew of the yacht made a deep hole in what remained of their own supplies. n.o.body who had seen them eat would have suspected that their long night at sea had interfered with their appet.i.tes. In fact, each of them remarked to the others that it had not, so far as he was concerned.
”We'll make a good run,” said Dab. ”It'll be great!”
”What?” said Ford, in some astonishment; ”ain't you going to New York at all?”
”What for?”
”I thought that was what you meant to do. Shall you sail right straight home?”
”Why not? If we could do that distance at night, and in a storm, I guess we can in a day of such splendid weather as this, with the wind just right too.”
CHAPTER XIII
”HOME AGAIN! HERE WE ARE!”
The wind was indeed ”just right;” but even Dab forgot, for the moment, that ”The Swallow” would go faster and farther before a gale than she was likely to with the comparatively mild southerly breeze now blowing.
He was by no means likely to get home by dinner-time. As for danger, there would be absolutely none, unless the weather should again become stormy; and there was no probability of any such thing at that season.
And so, after he had eaten his breakfast, and, with a genuine boy's confidence in boys, Frank Harley came on board ”The Swallow” as a pa.s.senger, the anchor was lifted, and the gay little craft spread her white sails, and slipped lightly away from the neighborhood of the forlorn-looking, stranded steamer.
”They'll have her out of that in less'n a week,” said Ford to Frank. ”My father'll know just what to do about your baggage, and so forth.”
There were endless questions to be asked and answered on both sides; but at last Dab yawned a very sleepy yawn, and said, ”Ford, you've had your nap. Wake up d.i.c.k, there, and let him take his turn at the tiller. The sea's as smooth as a lake, and I believe I'll go to sleep for an hour or so. You and Frank can keep watch while d.i.c.k steers: he's a good steerer.”
Whatever Dab said was ”orders” now on board ”The Swallow;” and Ford's only reply was,--
”If you haven't earned a good nap, then n.o.body has.”
d.i.c.k, too, responded promptly and cheerfully; and in five minutes more the patient and skilful young ”captain” was sleeping like a top.
”Look at him,” said Ford Foster to Frank Harley. ”I don't know what he's made of. He's been at that tiller for twenty-three hours by the watch, in all sorts of weather, and never budged.”
”They don't make that kind of boy in India,” replied Frank.
”He's de bes' feller you ebber seen,” added d.i.c.k Lee. ”I's jes' proud ob him, I is!”