"Well, it's gone, and I reckon the crew doesn't mingle any plum duff with their ship's biscuit to-night," observed Widdy, with a sigh. "It sure did smell good, Mr. Hamilton, and it looked good, too," and the old sailor recoiled the rope he had grabbed up in his excitement. Captain Barton came on deck, then, to inquire the cause of the fun, and laughed when told the story of the pudding, to the rescue of which Widdy had sprung so valiantly. But if there was no plum duff for supper there were other good things, for Dick had well stocked the yacht's larder. "Der crew needn't mind so mooch," spoke the fat German cook. "I'll make 'em noodle soup, mit onions in, und I makes it goot und strong," and the crew did full justice to the generous quantity Hans sent to the forecastle. The boys did not go to their staterooms early that night, but sat up on deck, listening to yarn after yarn, reeled off by old Widdy, who, every now and then, interrupted his narratives to stump to the side, empty out the ashes from his short pipe, and refill it. But at length Captain Barton suggested that it was getting late, so Dick and his chums went below, for their first night aboard the steam yacht. They were lulled to rest by the soft swish and murmur of the waves, and the hum and throb of the powerful engines, which were urging the fine craft over the water. The young yachtsmen were up in time next morning to witness the swabbing down of the decks, in which task Dick and the others insisted on taking a hand, as the work was a novelty to them. Barefooted, and with trousers rolled up, they helped with the hose, which was attached to a steam pump, and used the big swabs with good intentions, if not with skill. "Pretty good for land-lubbers," Widdy condescended to say, as he watched the work. "Well, if it doesn't do anything else," observed Dick, "it gives one a tremendous appetite. Hans, don't you dare burn the omelet this morning." "_Ach himmel!_ Me burn a omelet! I vould as soon bite mine own ear, Herr Hamilton. Me burn a omelet!" and the cook was quite indignant, until Dick's laugh told him it was a joke. Coming up on deck after a substantial meal, Tim Muldoon, who was first out of the companionway, uttered a cry. "Hi, fellers, here's a ship that's been wrecked!" he cried. There was a rush to the rail and the boys saw, not far off, on the port side, a large vessel, with queer stumpy masts, on the tops of which were big, round objects. "Is it sinking?" asked Henry Darby. "Can't we rescue the people?" "That's a lightship," explained Captain Barton, who was just being relieved at the wheel by Widdy. "It's the one about twenty miles off Cape May, the southernmost point of New Jersey. We haven't made very good time during the night, or we'd be farther south. But I thought it best to proceed slowly, until I got better acquainted with the yacht."