CHAPTER V
SUNDAY ASHORE
Before the sun had much more than climbed to a position where it could
peer over the low yellow ridge of Fire Island and see what the Adventure
Club was up to, the two cruisers were chug-chugging out of the harbour
with all flags flying. First went the _Adventurer_, as flag-ship of the
fleet, to use Neil's metaphor, and, a little way behind came the _Follow
Me_, her black hull and battleship-grey deck reminding the occupants of
the other boat of one of the "puffing pigs" of yesterday. The bay was
almost as smooth as the proverbial mill-pond this morning, and the
slanting shafts of sunlight cast strange and beautiful shades of gold
and copper on the tiny wavelets. It was still cool, and in the shadow of
the bridge deck one felt a bit shivery. But the sun promised a warm day.
The crew was polishing bright-work rather awkwardly but most
industriously and with a fine willingness, explaining that if he
polished brass some other poor Indian would have to swab decks, a remark
which inspired Neil to state with much emphasis that cleaning decks was
not, at all events, within the province of the ship's boy, and that,
anyway, he had helped with the dishes and that right now he was going to
lie in the sun on the galley roof and that if anyone disturbed him
there'd be trouble.
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