The first of July was a day so perfect that it might well have been made to order. The brilliant blue sky held little wisps of clouds that were scattered by a steady, gentle wind.

“That taxi will never come and I just can’t wait another instant. It should have been here long ago. I just know we’ll be late,” and Jane bobbed up from her chair and rushed to the window at the sound of every car that passed.

Mr. Wing had called them up the night before and asked them all to be out at City Island by ten o’clock. He planned to have lunch and be on the way by one.

“Patience, my dear sister, is like—well, something or other—I can’t remember just what, but it is a good old saying,” Jack flung over his shoulder as he went to answer the knock of the boy who had come to tell them that their taxi was waiting.

Mabel and Mr. Wing met them and took them down to the foot of one of the many little wharves that jutted out in the harbor.

“Frances is already on board. There wasn’t room in the tender for all of us,” Mabel explained. “Oh! I am so happy I can hardly stand it. It almost killed me when Ruth couldn’t come. You know she is taking some sort of social service course this summer and didn’t feel that she ought to stop right in the middle of it.”

“Yes, it must have been a disappointment,” agreed Ellen. “But maybe this will cheer you up some. I had a telegram from Anne Follet this morning saying that she and Ruth would try to be in New York for a few days when we get back.”

“Splendid, marvelous!” bubbled Mabel, who was hard to depress for long.

“Miss Pellew,” suggested Mr. Wing, “you come out and have lunch with us and I’ll have one of the men set you ashore directly after. I’d like to have you see the boat.”

“You are very kind, indeed,” said Aunt Min, rather hurriedly. “But couldn’t you point out your boat to me from here?”

“What, you aren’t afraid, are you?” Mr. Wing laughed that delightful laugh that so often accompanies fatness.

“Yes, I am,” admitted Aunt Min. “But don’t tell the girls or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Mr. Wing pointed to a two-master, with a black hull. “She is the schooner type and was built by a shipbuilder at Gloucester, so she is as sturdy as a Gloucester fisherman, but her yachty lines give her more speed. She’s got a big Lathrop engine in her that can kick her along at ten knots when our wind goes dead on her. She has been almost everywhere and is perfectly able to go anywhere she hasn’t been.”

It was perfectly plain to Aunt Min that boats and water were Mr. Wing’s hobby even though she hadn’t understood half of what he had said, particularly about kicking her along. What was the object in kicking her along if there was an engine?

“None of this fancy yachting for me,” went on the black yacht’s owner. “I’m my own sailing-master because half the fun of yachting to me is the work it entails. Why, I love the feel of the old ‘Boojum’ as she answers to wheel! And let me tell you she handles quick. She is alive, every inch of her.”

“Well, I hope there are plenty of life preservers in convenient places. Thank heavens, all the girls can swim well!” Aunt Min looked rather dubiously at the “Boojum” and at its owner.

Somehow the black hull upset her. It smacked of the piratical and she had visions of drawn cutlasses and bearded men with their heads wrapped up in red rags. It would have been better, she thought, if the boat had been white, as she imagined all yachts were.

“My dear Miss Pellew, it is safe as safe can be and dry as a bone. It takes days to get a drop in her bilges,” Mr. Wing hastened to assure her.

“What in the world could be the advantage of it taking days to get a drop in the bilges, and what did bilges have to do with life preservers, and what were bilges anyway?” thought Aunt Min. But she only said, “Well, that is very nice, I am sure.”

Mabel had been explaining to her young guests that Mr. Wing was taking the boat out a little short-handed because he wanted all of them to learn something about sailing. “Daddy says it is exactly twice as much fun if every man on board has some little work to do. I adore steering by a point of land, but I just can’t bear to do it by the compass.”

“Much as I hate to tell Aunt Min good-bye, I wish we would shove off. I am wild to see it on the inside.” Jane’s black eyes snapped at the prospect.

Soon the young people were seated in the dancing tender and, with many good-byes to Aunt Min, they scooted through the sparkling stretch of water that lay between them and the “Boojum.”

“Mabel, how in the world do you ever get over the side and up on deck?” asked Ellen uneasily.

“She is falling off a lot, I think,” defended Charlie.

“Goose, I didn’t mean that. I mean, how does anybody do it?”

“You see there is a little ladder that they hook on the side whenever people want to get off or on and when it isn’t being used, it is kept on deck,” Mabel explained.

Two men in spotless blue denim work suits appeared on the deck as Mabel finished speaking and lowered the sea ladder over the side of the “Boojum.”

“Jane, you go first,” whispered Ellen.

“The water is perfectly flat today, but there will be days when it won’t be, so you might just as well begin by being careful,” explained Mr. Wing. “Step in the middle of the boat, grab hold of the sides of the ladder and step up as lightly as you can because, if you give much of a spring from the tender, it is liable to push us away from the ‘Boojum’.”

“It is nice to know that I have you in my power,” Jane laughed.

However, Jane did not take advantage of her new found power but made an impressive embarkation on the “Boojum.” Her sureness and quickness won a gleam of approbation from the keen gray eyes of the bronzed young sailor, who had offered her a hand, which she smilingly refused.

“Pretty good for a land-lubber, Jane,” applauded Mr. Wing. “Now, Ellen, see if you can do as well.”

“Ellen, you are so light, you couldn’t push us away to save your soul,” said Jack rather proudly.

“And I just bounce up from long practice,” giggled Mabel.

With all of them safe on deck, Mr. Wing gave a few orders to the two men, telling the short Dutchman to serve lunch as soon as it was ready and the young sailor to haul the tender up in the davits. “And Jack, you better help Breck. Sorry to put you to work so soon.”

Mr. Wing led the way down the companion into the saloon. “I hope Mabel can make you fairly comfortable, girls. You will feel a bit cramped at first, but most people soon accustom themselves to it. She is very compact and it really is just a matter of adjusting yourself to a smaller scale. Now I must go above and see that we get under way. Charlie, Mabel tells me you have been cruising before and I’m going to depend a lot on you. As soon as you stow your duds, come up and help Breck and me with the sails.”

“I’m a peach of a crew, I’ll admit,” and Charlie chanted:
“The crew was complete; it included a Boots—
A maker of Bonnets and Hoods—
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes—
And a Broker, to value their goods.
A Billiard-marker whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his share—
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.
There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often—the Bellman said—saved them from wreck,
Though none of the sailors knew how.”

“What delicious nonsense! What is it?” queried Ellen.

“Mabel, you explain, I’ve got to go, for the ‘Boojum’s’ piped all hands on deck,” and Charlie scrambled up the companion.

“Your education has been neglected if you don’t know Lewis Carroll’s ‘Hunting of the Snark.’ Why, you do, don’t you, Plain Jane?” demanded Mabel.

“Brought up on it,” answered Jane. “Must I prove it?”
“I engage with the Snark every night after dark—
In a dreamy delirious fight:
I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,
And I use it for striking a light.”

Suddenly the brown curtains before one of the bunks that were on each side of the saloon were flung aside, and Frances Bliss poked out a tousled head and started,
“But it knows any friend it has met once before;
It never will look at a bribe;
And in charity meetings it stands at the door
And collects—though it does not subscribe.”

“Plain Jane and Ellen, I am just as glad to see you as though you hadn’t waked me up. Come, salute me.”

Both girls made a dash for their disheveled friend.

“Well, get out of Daddy’s bunk and tell Ellen the tragedy of the Snark while I take Jane into your little stateroom and show her where she can scrouge in her clothes,” commanded Mabel.

Frances crawled out of the bunk and began, “Well, my poor little ignorant friend, it is this way: The Snark was a fabulous creature of great value, so great in fact that a band of worthy gentlemen set out to catch it. This band was headed by the noble Bellman who was much respected by the others. One of these gentlemen was a Baker and was unfortunate enough to vanish in thin air after the Snark was caught, because it proved to be a Boojum. Now it is all nice and clear, isn’t it, my priceless child?”

“About as clear as mud,” laughed Ellen. “I’ll get a copy and read it so I’ll know what you lunatics are talking about. Anyway, I’m glad I know where Mr. Wing got that ridiculous name for this lovely boat.”

Mabel had taken Jane into a tiny stateroom with two narrow little bunks, one over the other.

“The lockers are under the lower bunk and you can put your rough clothes in there. Bring your suit and hat into my cabin and I will put them in my closet. Ellen and I are in the ‘Skipper’s cabin.’ It has a double bunk that folds up against the side of the cabin and has the only full length closet in the ‘Boojum.’ Consequently, the whole bunch will have to keep their good clothes in it,” said Mabel. “And now, if you and Ellen are ready, let’s go up on deck and maybe we can pick up some dope on how to put up the sails.”

The four girls ran up the companion, the two newcomers giving their heads a terrific bump on the main boom.

“Mabel, you horrible creature, why didn’t you tell us to duck?” wailed Jane, holding her throbbing head.

“No use,” answered Mabel in cruel tones. “Daddy says that everybody has to butt their heads a certain number of times on the main boom of a yacht and the sooner they begin, the sooner it is over.” Then relenting a bit, she added, “I’ll warn you to this extent; whenever we are at anchor and whenever the sails are down, that is just where the boom is going to be.”

The girls were standing in the cockpit, looking with admiration at the immaculate deck gleaming in the July sun, and the shining brass work. “Oh! just imagine keeping a house as clean as this. It would keep you working every minute,” said Ellen.

Mr. Wing let go the rope he was coiling and turned a beaming countenance on the girls. “I’ve got a splendid idea,” he said. “You girls can take entire charge of the metal work on the good ship ‘Boojum’ and, if I see a single dull place on it, I’ll put half of you in irons and the rest of you on hard tack and water.”

“There are no irons on board but flat irons, girls,” Mabel wriggled an unbelievable length of pink tongue at her father, “so don’t let him scare you.”

“Well, anyway I can see by your feet that you are very wise children,” said Mr. Wing as he went forward to see what Jack had done with the rope he had been left to coil.

“What in the world does he mean, Mabel?” giggled Frances. “Your father is the funniest man!”

“He means that we have all got on tennis shoes and that endears you to the heart of any yachtsman, for it is so easy on the decks. Some yacht owners keep an extra supply of them on hand so that anybody without them can be supplied,” explained Mabel.

The good-looking young sailor whom Mr. Wing had called Breck came aft to the girls and, touching the white cap that covered a very small part of his crisp black hair, said to Mabel, “Miss Wing, the steward says that lunch is ready in the saloon.”

“Ah, the low pleasures of the table!” said Mabel with a great show of licking her chops, then called to the men working up forward, “Hey, you kids, we are going to lunch and it will be all gone in about two seconds because the lady crew is hungry as sharks and is not going to wait for you.”

“You don’t have to,” and, with surprising lightness, fat Charlie Preston jumped down the galley hatch, ignoring the ladder and had his feet under the table before the others had time to shut the mouths that had opened in surprise as he disappeared below.