Another time some big black things rolled out
of the way almost alongside.
"What's them--whales?" I gasps.
"Porpoises," says Vee. "Keep on blowing."
"I'll be qualified as captain of a fish wagon before I'm through," says
I. "Looks like that explorin' trio had gone and lost themselves for
fair, don't it?"
"They must be somewhere among these islands," says Vee. "They couldn't
have gone out on the Gulf, could they?"
We asked each other a lot of questions that neither one of us knew the
answer to. It sort of helped pass the time. And we certainly did do a
thorough job of paging, for we cruised in and out of every little cove,
and around every point we came to; and I kept the horn goin' until I
was as shy on breath as a fat lady comin' out of the subway.
It was while I was restin' a bit that I got to explorin' one of the
boat lockers, and dug up this Roman-candle affair that Vee said I might
touch off. And it hadn't burned half way down before I spots an
answerin' glow 'way off to the left.
"We've raised someone, anyway," says I.
"We'll know who it is soon," says Vee, turnin' the wheel.
Five minutes later and we got a reply to our horn--four long blasts.
"That means distress," says Vee. "Answer with three short ones.
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