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.

CHAPTER IV
ANCHOR WEIGHED

Mr. Wing rose from the little table that had been spread in the saloon and said, “We’ll break the anchor out with the jib as soon as Breck has eaten. I hate this old engine like poison, though she’s a good old girl in case of emergency. But I have made it a rule not to use her unless it is really necessary.”

“What in the world is a jib?” queried Frances with a puzzled expression. “I thought it was some part of your face because my small brother used to say ‘If you don’t shut up, Sis, I’ll bust you one in the jib.’”

“In this case, it is the sail that is fastened on the bowsprit. There are a lot of things to learn on a boat, but don’t give up because, before the cruise is over, you girls are going to be able to sail the ship by yourselves and we men can take it easy; isn’t that right, Jack?” and Mr. Wing went up on deck to uncover the wheel.

Mabel advised her friends to stay below until the “Boojum” was well under way. There was always a great deal of excitement on deck whenever they left a harbor and it might be just as well for all concerned if they kept out of the way until they got the hang of things nautical.

Ellen borrowed “The Hunting of the Snark” from Charlie and announced that she was going to curl up on the transom in the saloon and become familiar enough with it by supper to beat the others at their own game.