stove we placed in the bows with the groceries, which included
sugar, pepper, salt, and a bottle of pickles. Phil Adams
contributed to the outfit a small tent of unbleached cotton cloth,
under which we intended to take our nooning.

We unshipped the mast, threw in an extra oar, and were ready to
embark. I do not believe that Christopher Columbus, when he started
on his rather successful voyage of discovery, felt half the
responsibility and importance that weighed upon me as I sat on the
middle seat of the Dolphin, with my oar resting in the rowlock. I
wonder if Christopher Columbus quietly slipped out of the house
without letting his estimable family know what he was up to?
Charley Marden, whose father had promised to cane him if he ever
stepped foot on sail or row boat, came down to the wharf in a sour-
grape humor, to see us off. Nothing would tempt him to go out on
the river in such a crazy clam-shell of a boat. He pretended that
he did not expect to behold us alive again, and tried to throw a
wet blanket over the expedition.

"Guess you'll have a squally time of it," said Charley, casting off
the painter. "I'll drop in at old Newbury's" (Newbury was the
parish undertaker) "and leave word, as I go along!"

"Bosh!" muttered Phil Adams, sticking the boathook into the
string-piece of the wharf, and sending the Dolphin half a dozen
yards toward the current.

How calm and lovely the river was! Not a ripple stirred on the
glassy surface, broken only by the sharp cutwater of our tiny
craft. The sun, as round and red as an August moon, was by this