By way of public buildings there turned out to be a church, locked and
dark, a general store and also a drug-store that contained the local
post-office. But the drug-store carried no ice cream or soda, so the
submarine boys turned away.

There was one other “public” place that the boys failed to discover at
once. That was a low groggery at the further end of the town. Here two of
the sailors who had come on shore leave turned in for a drink or two. They
found a suave, black-bearded man quite ready to buy liquor for Uncle Sam’s
tars.

Three-quarters of an hour later Jack and Hal felt they had seen about as
much of the town as they cared for, when a hailing voice stopped them.

“Finding it pretty dull, gentlemen?”

“Oh, good evening,” replied Captain Jack, recognizing the bearded man whom
he had refused admittance to the “Farnum.”

“Pretty stupid town, isn’t it, Captain?” asked the stranger, holding out
his hand, which Jack Benson took.

“As lively as we thought it would be,” Hal rejoined. “We just came ashore
to stretch ourselves a bit. Thought we might lay a course to an ice-cream
soda, too, but failed.”

“These fishermen don’t have such things,” smiled the stranger. “They are
content with the bare necessities of life, with a little grog and tobacco
added. Speaking of grog, would you care to try the best this town has,
gentlemen?”