The morning was a glorious one.  Old Sol cast his rays upon the sea which gave them back broken and shattered into a thousand shafts of shimmering light.  The air was cool and clear.  Here and there in the distance a white sail like a fleeting gull marked the position of a sailing vessel, while a smudge of smoke from a steamer far away to the west lent a touch of color.

No time was lost by the boys in starting the pump.  Soon a stream of water from the hose was playing on the deck.  All hands seized brushes and scrubbed the decks industriously until they shone in spotlessness.  Then the hose was turned on the crew, each boy in turn enjoying hugely a shower bath of sea-water.  After splashing about to their hearts’ content someone mentioned breakfast.

“Let’s run out a ways and see what we can catch,” cried Arnold.  “I’d like a broiled fish for breakfast.”

Accordingly the lines were made ready and in a short time Tom announced a bite.  His catch proved to be a Spanish mackerel of good size.  No time was lost in cleaning the prize.

“Now, while the cook prepares breakfast,” Jack said, “I think we’d better get back into harbor.  I’m dubious about that plug in the Fortune’s side and think we’d better have her out on the ways for a new plank if necessary.  Let’s get back.”

“Right you are, Captain,” declared Harry.  “I’m cook this morning, while Jack must wash dishes!  He said lots of slang yesterday.”

“Now you mention it, I’ll plead guilty,” laughed Jack.

With laughter and gay spirits the boys could scarcely wait for breakfast.  Harry was an adept at the kitchen as his friends all were willing to testify.  He threw his whole soul into the task as he did with everything he undertook.  Today was no exception.

“My only regret,” stated Frank as they were seated about the breakfast table at last, “is that I didn’t find you fellows sooner.”

“The pleasure is mutual, I assure you—­we assure you,” stated Tom.  “We’ve enjoyed your society immensely and hope we’ll find your chum shortly.  He can’t be far away.”

“Wyckoff wouldn’t be so desperate as to do him harm, would he?” queried Harry.  “I can’t believe he would make way with him.”

“I don’t know,” replied Frank in a dubious tone.  “Wyckoff has given evidence that he’s a mighty mean sort of a chap.”

“Speaking of Wyckoff,” put in Jack, “I believe that’s the schooner that chased us away from Petit Bois yesterday.  Look there.”

All hands looked in the direction indicated by Jack and saw a schooner just putting out of the harbor.  On her decks stood several roughly dressed men lounging about in attitudes that bespoke anything but the smart sailor.  They were unkempt and untidy in appearance and were generally a pretty undesirable looking group.

“If that’s the same vessel,” Frank declared, “I’m glad she didn’t catch us!  They’re a hard looking collection of desperadoes.”