“Perhaps the Queen had more potatoes than we have,” was the answer. “You get out of here, Dan, you’re in the way.” “Well, I’ll go up and discover Tommy.” “You’ll set the table,” said Nelson, “that’s what you’ll do.” “Sure! How do you do it?” “Put the cloth on and I’ll come and help you,” answered Nelson. “Aye, aye, sir! A sailor’s life for me!” Twenty minutes later they were seated around the table on which steamed a dish of corned-beef hash, nicely browned about the edges, a dish of hashed brown potatoes, and three cups of very strong tea. There was bread, too, and cheese in a little crockery jar, and jam and crackers. Dan uttered a sigh of content as he piled his plate. “Tommy doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he said. “I wish to goodness he’d show up,” said Bob. “Is it clearing up any, Dan?” “Not so you’d notice it,” replied that youth who had been up on deck a moment before. “It’s as thick as ever and maybe thicker.” “Well, Tommy’ll turn up all right, I guess,” said Nelson. “When he does I’ll bet he will be hungry enough to eat raw dog,” said Dan. “Gee, but this hash is swell! Who’s got the bread?” “Have some butter, won’t you, Dan?” begged Nelson. “Well, I should say not! With my complexion? What are you thinking about? Say, how would a little lard taste on the bread, fellows?” “You might try it,” answered Bob. “I dare say it wouldn’t be any worse than some butter I’ve met.” They were very hungry, very merry, and very noisy, and as a consequence of the latter fact they did not hear the sound of oars outside or of feet on the deck, nothing, in fact, until some one stumbled wearily down the steps and appeared at the stateroom door. “Tommy!” cried Dan, and—— “Tommy!” echoed Bob and Nelson. Tommy, very tired looking and extremely damp, dragged himself across the floor and sank onto the edge of a bunk, staring famishedly at the table. “Haven’t you got through breakfast yet?” he asked weakly. “For goodness sake, Tommy,” exclaimed Nelson, “where have you been?” “Been!” answered Tom with a suggestion of returning spirit, as he drew from his pocket a misshapen object wrapped in brown paper and tossed it onto the table, “I’ve been after your blamed old bu-bu-bu-butter!” CHAPTER XV—TELLS OF ADVENTURES IN THE FOG Five minutes later, having learned with bewilderment that the repast on the table was luncheon instead of a late breakfast, Tom was seated with a plate before him and doing noble work. His countenance looked much more cheerful. And as he ate he recounted the tale of his morning’s adventures. “I don’t know where I was,” said Tom. “I guess, though, I was about everywhere. I got started wrong when I left the boat. I rowed over that way, toward the wharf, and kept looking around for——” “That’s where you made your mistake,” said Bob. “The tide turned the launch around and you started in just the opposite direction from what you thought. I’ll bet you didn’t find the wharf?”