The first night on the bark passed pleasantly enough for the three chums. At first the quarters on the vessel appeared small to them, but they soon grew accustomed to the change. All slept soundly and they were out on deck very shortly after sunrise.
"Well, how do you like life on Mother Carey's Chicken?" asked Phil, when they were gazing at the rolling ocean.
"Mother Carey's Chicken?" repeated Dave, with a puzzled look.
"Oh, I know what he means!" cried Roger, with a laugh. "A stormy petrel is a bird that the sailors call a Mother Carey's chicken."
"What a name! I think I like Stormy Petrel better," observed Dave. "But, I say, isn't this just grand! A fellow can open his lungs and drink in ozone by the barrel!"
"And hardly a cloud in the sky," added Roger. "If this is any criterion, we'll have the finest kind of a trip."
"Well, boys, I see you are up on time," came from a little behind them, and now Captain Marshall strode up. "Fine sea this, and a fine breeze, too."
"How long will this nice weather last?" asked Roger.
"Humph!" The captain humped his shoulders. "No man alive can tell that. A few days, at least,
