"Pooh!" exclaimed Sammy. "It might happen just the same, and if we find a dead whale outside you fellows won't be so ready to laugh!"
"Oh, a dead whale—maybe yes," agreed Bob, for more than once Sammy had been right in his queer guesses, though a number of his wild dreams of sensational things had not proved to be true.
"Yes, or a live whale either," went on Sammy, who was following Frank's example in getting into his clothes, as was Bob. "Didn't you ever read of whales scraping themselves against ships to get the barnacles off 'em."
"Off the ships?" asked Frank, with a smile.
"No, off the whales themselves. Anyway, I think it's barnacles. It's some kind of stuff that grows on a whale and he doesn't like it, so he scrapes it off whenever he can. Sometimes he scrapes up against a ship, and maybe that's what's happened now."
"Well, we can soon see," spoke Frank. "But if it is a whale I hope he doesn't scrape too hard. He might upset this boat."
"Well, we lived through one night, adrift on the ocean," remarked Sammy, as he finished dressing. "Now we'll see what it's like outside."
"It's stopped raining, anyhow," went on Frank. "The storm is over."
"I'm glad of it," remarked Bob. "Now we can eat breakfast without spilling things in our laps."
"That's right—it is time to eat," added Sammy.
"But first let's see what we're bumping into, or what's bumping us," suggested Frank.
The boys were feeling much better now. They had been rested and calmed by their night's rest, and they had slept more soundly than they knew, for they were tired out. Sleep was the best thing for them, as it kept them from worrying.
