Part 25 (1/2)
”It is,” agreed her sister. ”Oh, Cora, wouldn't you just fairly love to run that splendid motor?”
”I would, if I didn't have to start it too often,” replied Jack's sister, as she looked at the heavy flywheel, which was now moving about as noiselessly as a shaft of light. The propeller was not in clutch, however.
”It has a self-starter,” Joe informed the girls. ”It's the smoothest engine ever handled. No trouble at all.”
”Better knock wood,” suggested Jack.
”Eh? Knock wood?” asked the engineer, evidently puzzled.
”Oh, Jack means to do that to take away any bad luck that might follow your boast,” laughed Cora.
”Oh, I see. But I carry a charm,” and Joe showed a queer black pebble. ”I always have it with me.”
”One superst.i.tion isn't much worse than the other,” said Bess, with a laugh. ”Now let's get settled. Oh, Cora, did you bring any safety-pins? I meant to get a paper, but--”
”I have them,” interrupted Belle. ”I fancy we won't have much time to sew b.u.t.tons on--or room to do it, either,” she added, as she squeezed herself into a corner of the tiny stateroom.
Suitcases had been stowed away, the boys had gotten their possessions into what they called ”s.h.i.+p-shape” order, and the Tartar was soon chugging her way over the blue waters of the bay.
The route was to be around the eastern end of the island, taking the narrow channel between Porto Rico and Vieques, and thus into the Caribbean. St. Croix was to be their first stop, though they did not hope for much news from that Danish possession.
”Why don't you boys do some fis.h.i.+ng?” asked Cora, as she and the other girls came from their stateroom, where they had been putting their things to rights. ”We won't have much but canned stuff to eat, if you don't,” she went on, addressing Jack and Walter, who sat on the open after deck, under an awning that shaded them from the hot December sun.
”That's so, we might,” a.s.sented Jack. ”A nice tarpon now wouldn't go bad.”
”Nonsense!” exclaimed Walter. ”We haven't the outfit for tarpon fis.h.i.+ng. If we get some red snappers, we'll be doing well.”
The boys had brought along a fis.h.i.+ng outfit, one of the simple sort used in those waters, and as they baited their hooks, Jack said:
”Well, maybe I haven't the rod to catch a tarpon, but I can rig up a line and hook that will do the business, maybe.”
Accordingly he picked out what Joe said was a regular shark hook, and, baiting it with a piece of canned meat, tossed it over the side, fastening the line to the rail.
Then Jack forgot about it, for Walter had a bite almost as soon as he cast in, and the two boys were soon pulling in red snappers abundantly enough to insure several meals.
”Why don't you try your hand line,” suggested Cora, as she went to where it was tied to the rail. ”May be you'll get-a bite, Jack.”
As she spoke, she felt on the heavy string, and, an instant later, uttered a cry, for it was jerked from her hand with such force as to skin her knuckles, and at the same time she cried:
”Jack! Jack! You've hooked a big shark! Oh, what a monster!”
CHAPTER XIX
CRUISING DAYS
There was a sudden rush to see the tiger of the deep, of which Cora had had a glimpse. Walter, who was at the wheel, cried to Joe to steer while he, too, ran to the rail.
”I don't see him,” said Bess, as she peered down into the deep, blue water.