Frank Merriwell's Cruise Part 7

"No. We are somewhere near the Whitehead Islands, near the mouth of Pen.o.bscot Bay."

"Well, let's keep on as long as there is a breath of wind. I don't fancy anchoring here. We might be run down in the night."

"And, if we keep on, the chances are two to one that we'll run onto a reef or pile up on an island. I had much rather take the chances of anchoring here and being run down. The wind is dying out, and this fog is shutting down thicker and thicker."

"Well," said Jack, in a dissatisfied way, "this is your boat and you are in command. You can do as you like."

"I'll do as the majority believes best."

"Then anchor," grunted Browning. "I don't fancy this prowling about in the fog."

Hodge was in favor of anchoring, and Hans agreed with them, so Jack was the only one who felt like going on. He gave up in disgust.

While they were talking the last faint breeze had fallen swiftly, and, by the time it was definitely decided, the _White Wings_ lay becalmed, rolling helplessly on the swells that came in from the open sea.

"s.h.i.+mminy Gristmas!" groaned Hans. "I don't like dot roll up und drop avay motions. Id makes me feel sick to your stomach."

"You will get enough of that as long as we remain anch.o.r.ed out here,"

said Diamond, unpleasantly.

Frank gave the orders, and down came the sails. A sounding showed they could anchor without trouble, and then the anchor was cast. The sails were not reefed, for it was not known when they might be required.

Arrangements were made for raising them on short notice.

Night came down swiftly. Lights were set, but the boys felt that a light was poor protection for them in that darkness and fog.

"If we are in the course of the steamers we'll be run down," grumbled Jack.

"There'll have to be a regular watch to-night," declared Frank; "and the fog horn must be used."

Browning had managed to crawl on deck, and he looked disconsolate and disgusted.

"This is what they call a life on the ocean wave," he grunted. "Oh, it is more fun than a minstrel show!"

"We'll have to put up with some discomforts," said Merriwell.

"We made a mistake in coming further east than Portland," put in Jack.

"That was a good place to stop."

"Wait till the sun comes out to-morrow and we run into Rockland Harbor,"

laughed the owner of the _White Wings_. "You will change your tune."

"Well, I hope so."

Hans was given the first watch, and he remained on deck while the others went below and had supper. At intervals he blew a blast on the horn, which sounded like some lost animal bellowing in the fog.

Frank laughed and joked, and he succeeded in putting the others in better spirits after a time. It was comfortable in the cabin, despite the fog outside.

Hodge made coffee, and the smell of it as it bubbled over the blaze of the oil stove gave all of them a ravenous feeling of hunger. The little folding table was let down and spread, and the sight of the food and smell of the coffee took their minds off the unpleasantness of their situation.

"It was a foolhardy thing running down here without somebody who knew the coast," said Jack.

"My dear fellow," smiled Frank, "we have our chart and compa.s.s, and I know a little something about navigation. Quit your worrying. I'll land you in Rockland to-morrow all right."

"You were going to land us there to-day."

"And so I would had the wind held right and this fog kept off."

"I believe there is a fog factory down this way somewhere," said Browning.

Hodge announced that supper was ready, and they gathered about the table. The _White Wings_ was riding on a steady, regular swell, so they were not shaken up down there, and they found they could eat without discomfort. Browning was hungry as a bear, and he "pitched into the spread."

"Well, I don't know as this is too bad after all," he confessed, taking a third slice of tongue. "We've been in worse places."

"That's right," nodded Hodge. "Pa.s.s the sugar. I want a little of this coffee myself. I made it."

"The coffee is good," acknowledged Jack. "It warms a fellow up. A little grog wouldn't go bad in a case like this."

"There is no grog on this boat and will not be as long as I own her,"

declared Merriwell. "It's a foolish thing for a lot of fellows on a cruise like this to think that they must have grog."

"Oh, I didn't suppose you had any on board, Merriwell," said Diamond. "I know your temperance principles too well to look for anything like that."

By the time they finished eating all were in much better spirits. No one but Hans had been troubled with seasickness thus far on the cruise, and the Dutch boy had not been very sick.

Hans was called down to eat, and Bart took his place while he was below.

"Uf I can haf some of dot coffee id vill done you goot," said the Dutch lad. "I don'd pelief I vant to ead much. Mein stomach felt like id don'd been aple to held much uf a loadt. Yaw!"

So Hans drank some coffee and ate a little hard bread, after which he returned to his duties on deck, having donned a suit of oil clothes.

Frank got out his guitar and put it in tune.

"That's right, Merry," grunted Browning, rolling into his bunk. "Give us a song to cheer us up."

"What shall I sing?"

"Some of the old college songs."

"They'll make me homesick," said Diamond.

"It's a pleasant thing to feel homesick for Old Yale," murmured Frank.

"Dear Old Yale!"

"Give us 'Stars of the Summer Night,'" urged Hodge.

So Frank sang the song that has sounded beneath the elms at Yale so many times. It was a beautiful song, and it awakened in the memories of the listening lads thoughts of the gay times at college, the moonlight nights, the roistering lads, the lighted windows of the Quad and the groups gathered at the Fence.

Jack brushed his eyes.