nt to be settled at Tarpaulin before
dark."

Soon all their goods were on the sloop. The dory was made fast to her
stern and the pea-pod's painter tied to the dory. The expedition was
ready to start. On board the _Barracouta_ Lane and Stevens, standing
side by side, faced Jim and brought their palms to their foreheads.

"Attention!" ordered Lane. "Spurling & Company! Salute!"

Jim returned the compliment with a sweep of his hand. He threw on the
switch and rocked the wheel; the engine started--click-click-click....
Gathering headway, the _Barracouta_ nosed south, dory and pea-pod
trailing behind her. Before them lay an archipelago of granite islands.

"This is an old stamping-ground of mine," said Jim. "I've fished and
lobstered round here so much that I know every rock and shoal for miles.
That's Crotch Island on our west, with the derricks and quarries;
they've taken no end of granite off it."

He held up his hand.

"Breezing up from the southwest. That'd be dead ahead if we went west of
Isle au Haut as I'd planned. Guess we'll go east of it; then we can use
our canvas to help us along. Steer for me, Budge, while I get sail on
her!"

Soon outer jib, jumbo and mainsail were set and trimmed close, and
Spurling again took the helm. The _Barracouta_ ran southeast through
Merchant's Row, a procession of rugged islets slipping by on either
side; then south past Fog and York islands, with the long, high ridge of
Isle au Haut walling the western horizon; down between Great Spoon and
Little Spoon, past White Horse and Black Horse, toward the heaving blue
of the open ocean.

A grum, melancholy note came floating over the long sea
swells--Oo-oo-oo-ooh! And again, Oo-oo-oo-ooh!

"What's that!" exclaimed Percy.

"Whistling buoy south of Roaring Bull Ledge. One of our nearest
neighbors. We'll hear that voice pretty often, when the wind's from the
north."

They passed two miles east of the whistler, and gradually its warning
blast grew fainter and fainter. On the horizon straight ahead a little
black mound was slowly rising above the breaking waves. Jim swung his
hand toward it.

"There's Tarpaulin! Our home for the next three months! Looks kind of
small and lonesome when you're running offshore for it; but it's pretty
good to make after an all-day fishing-trip. What's the matter,
Whittington?"

Percy's face was somewhat white; for the last half-hour he had been
strangely subdued.

"I don't feel very good," said