"
"It might be sport, under the right circumstances," said Jack, with a
rueful laugh. "Next time I'll know better, than to, handle a shark
line without gloves."
"So shall I," agreed Cora, as she looked at her skinned knuckles.
They had made a good catch of food fishes and the boys now proceeded
to get these ready for their first meal aboard, the girls agreeing to
cook them, and to set the table.
The meal was rather a merry one, in spite of the grief that hung over
the party--a grief occasioned by the fear of what might have befallen
Mrs. Kimball, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.
And yet, with all their sorrow, there was that never-failing ray of
hope. Without it, the days would have been dismal indeed.
Joe ran the boat while the others were eating, and presently he
called into the dining compartment.
"Cape San Juan!" was his announcement.
"Have we sighted it?" asked Jack, referring to the north easternmost
point of Porto Rico.
"Just ahead of us," replied Joe, who was a skillful navigator of the
West Indian waters. "You said you were going to change the course
there."
"Oh, yes. We'll round the cape and go south, I think," went on Jack.
"A little more of that red snapper, Cora. Whoever cooked it knew how
to do it," and he looked at Ben, while the others laughed.
"What's the joke?" Jack demanded, as he ate on, seemingly
unperturbed, though his cut hand made it rather awkward to handle his
knife and fork.
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