he.

Spurling eyed him critically, then scanned the faces of the others. The
_Barracouta_ was rising and falling on the long swells in a manner
decidedly disconcerting to weak stomachs. Stevens and the young Italian
did not look much happier than Percy. Jim could not help smiling a
little.

"Good seasick weather!" he observed, judicially. "Excuse me for
laughing, boys! It's a mean thing to do, but I can't help it. I've been
there myself--years ago. You'll be worse before you're better."

They were, considerably, all three, Percy in particular. For the next
hour conversation dragged; but all the while Tarpaulin loomed larger and
larger. To Jim it wore the aspect of an old friend, and he dilated on
its features for the benefit of the others.

"You see that western end is fifty acres of pasture, sloping north;
those gray dots are sheep grazing. The eastern half is just scrub
evergreen. That little cove on the northeast corner's the Sly Hole; you
mightn't think it, but a good-sized schooner can ride there at low tide.
Pretty rocky all round. Always a surf breaking on one side or the other.
Our landing-place is on the south."

Before long the _Barracouta_ and her tow were skirting the eastern
ledges. Under the island it was comparatively calm, and the seasick
three felt better. Then, as they rounded a wooded promontory and turned
west, it grew rough again, but only for a few minutes. Spurling steered
the sloop into calm water behind the protecting elbow of another point,
off which lay the half-submerged hulk of a wrecked vessel.

"Sprawl's Cove!" exclaimed Jim. "How do you like the looks of your
hotel, Whittington?"

III

TARPAULIN ISLAND

Curiosity dispelled the last vestiges of Percy's seasickness. For a
little while he gazed without speaking.

A cove four hundred feet wide opened toward the south between two rocky
points. At its head a pebbly beach sloped up to a sea-wall, behind which
a growth of cattails bespoke a stagnant lagoon. Still farther back a
steep bank of dirt rose to the overhanging sod of the pasture.

From the western point a spur extended into the cove, forming a little
haven amply large enough for a modest fleet of fishing-boats. Near by on
the sea-wall stood two structures, one low, oblong, flat-roofed, with a
rusty iron stovepipe projecting from its farther end; the other a small,
paintless shed with a large door. Percy gave them only a casual glance.

"You said we were going to l