Ten minutes later Bob’s blanket was fluttering from the awning rod and Barry, curled up in a patch of sunlight and looking somewhat woe-begone, was striving to forget his recent discomfiture. They were past the point now and Block Island, which was their destination, was looming up clearly across the water some ten miles distant. They reached it at a little after eleven, found anchorage off the village and went ashore for what Bob called “an old-fashioned fish dinner.” Tom said he guessed they’d got it all right, because his fish was just about as old-fashioned as he’d ever found. But the others declared that it was all right and so Tom, declaring feelingly that he didn’t want to live without the others, ate his too. Later on Tom declared that he felt very uncomfortable and that he was certain he had ptomaine poisoning. But the others laughed at him and told him that any fellow who had eaten as much as he had ought to expect to feel uncomfortable. At two o’clock they were on their way again and making for New London, a matter of thirty-five miles distant. CHAPTER XVII—IN WHICH DAN PLAYS A JOKE Long before sunset the _Vagabond_ was berthed for the night at the end of an otherwise empty pier scarcely a stone’s throw from the railroad station at New London. “I don’t know who this wharf belongs to,” said Nelson as he passed the bow line up to Dan, “but there isn’t any notice to keep away and so we might as well use it.” “I think it’s an orphan pier,” said Dan as he ran the line through a ring and made it fast. “Anyhow, that’s the way it appears,” he added. Nelson groaned. “That’ll do for you,” he said. “Leave plenty of slack there to allow for the fall of the tide. If those trains make as much noise to-night as they’re making now we’ll wish we’d anchored across the river.” “Yes, I do hope the noise won’t keep Tommy awake,” said Dan concernedly. “I think,” replied Tom, who was trying to make Barry stand on his hind legs and beg for a strip of bark torn from a spiling, “that it’s rather fun seeing trains again. I love engines, anyway. I used to think I’d be an engineer when I grew up.” “Well, I think you’d make a success on the railroad,” said Bob thoughtfully, “but not as engineer.” “What, then?” demanded Tom unsuspiciously. “Why, you’d make a dandy sleeper, Tommy,” was the reply.