Captain Eli was of course snugly tucked in bed and snoring lustily at that unseemly hour, and since the engineer and his young companions were destined to be early risers during their stay on the island it had been decided that they take their breakfast with the crew in the main mess-hall.
Bongo, the big negro cook of the outfit, was just sounding his call to quarters on the bottom of a big dishpan when the three entered the long low building. There was little of a decorative nature about the arrangement of the tables in the hall. There were two, that extended the full length of the room and were flanked on either side by long backless benches.
In twos and threes and groups of half a dozen the burly lighthouse builders came from the bunk-house to the mess-hall. They were a happy-go-lucky lot who could not resist a little horse play by way of a morning’s greeting and the fisticuffs and good-natured chaffing that resulted made Bongo’s face shine with merriment as he hustled about the room with big bowls of steaming victuals.
Jack, Ray and Mr. Warner crowded in beside the foreman, Big O’Brien, and fell to with as much zest as the rest of the men. The breakfast was of a rather coarse nature, to be sure, consisting chiefly of baked beans, liberal slices of salt pork, thick slices of bread, canned peaches and coffee as strong and black as Bongo could possibly brew it. But Jack ate with a decided relish, nor did he pause to compare the breakfast with those served at Drueryville.
During the entire meal Mr. Warner and Big O’Brien were in earnest conversation, to which Jack and Ray were very attentive. The men were discussing the details of the expedition to the rock, and as the lads listened to the preparations that were being made they realized more and more that they were about to embark upon a hazardous undertaking.
By quarter of six the foreman and the engineer had drained their cups and pushed back their plates. Others of the crew were doing the same thing when O’Brien stood up and shouted, “Come, bhoys, ye have t’ sha-ake a leg. In haf en hour-r we’ll man t’ bhoat and r-run out on t’ last o’ the down tide. That’ll give us an hour-r t’ fuss ar-round befer it sthar-rts a-racin’ in agin. Come on, Mike, and you, Sandy, and Lafe there, git a wiggle on yez, yer all part of the boat crew.” And presently there was the scuffle of many feet and the rasp of the benches being pushed back, and five minutes after O’Brien left the mess-hall Bongo had the place to himself.