"Great glory, Rex! You'll have the stick out of her!" shrieked the more than a little frightened Peewee Hicks.
"Calm yourself," urged the other, smiling indulgently at the little fellow. "Don't be such a calamity howler. Now! Low bridge, everybody."
Larry Phillips--he of the auburn hair--handled the sheet. The boom swung over, the hand's breadth of sail filled on the other tack, and it seemed as though on the instant the _Spoondrift_ darted into comparatively calm water, the shoulder of the island intervening between them and the wind. But the rain, now descending in torrents, quite blotted out all view of the land so close to them.
"Get over the iron, Jawn," advised the fellow at the tiller, speaking to the dark and gloomy-looking chap. "We don't want her to climb aboard the island. Careful, boy! Don't throw yourself after the anchor. Whew! I think this shower will lay the dust on the ocean."
"Now you've said something, Blue Eyes," grunted Phillips. "It's just as wet rain as ever I felt."
"Looka the boat," complained Peewee Hicks. "It's all a-wash."
"Reach into the locker there, get a bailer and set to work," ordered the skipper of the _Spoondrift_. "You need exercise, Runt."
"I didn't ship aboard this old hooker to work."
"We know you came to give us the pleasure of your society, but right now it's up to you to imitate the busy little bee."
"Didn't you tell us this would be a pleasure trip?" demanded Hicks. "I thought I could bank on your word, Rex Kingdon."
"Of all the ungrateful persons!" cried Red Phillips. "You shipped as cabin boy, and you haven't done a lick of work yet."
"I feel like I'd been working for the last hour, all right. Hand's blistered holding onto that line to keep from flopping overboard. Ouch!"
"Never mind that," grunted the serious Midkiff. "It would have been small loss."
"And that's off your chest, Grouch," laughed Phillips.
"There aren't any of you fellows worked on this voyage but Kingdon and me," quoth the heretofore silent Cloudman. Despite the pouring rain he had fished an apple out of some pocket underneath his oilskins, and now he bit deeply into it.
"Oh, we'll do our share later," Phillips said airily. "Don't worry about the division of labor, Applejack."