"Now, boys," continued Mrs. Sedley, "who can tell me what an ocean is?"

"The largest body of water," replied several.

"What shall represent the ocean here?"

"The lake."

"Very well; what is a sea?"

"A portion of water smaller than an ocean, and nearly surrounded by land."

"We are in one now," said Frank.

He had steered the Zephyr into a corner of the lake which was partly enclosed by the projecting headland and island and the main sh.o.r.e.

"What sea shall we call it?" said Fred.

The boys looked around them for some object that would suggest a name.

CHAPTER XVII

OVERBOARD

There was no visible object which seemed to suggest a name for the miniature sea; but just then the band began to play "Washington's March."

"Call it Washington Sea, boys," said Mrs. Sedley.

The name was given, but the geography lesson could not proceed while the music continued.

"Stand by to lay on your oars!" Frank commanded. "Oars!"

The oarsmen levelled their oars, feathering the blades, and listening to the march. The Bunkers, attracted by the music of the band, followed the Sylph at a respectful distance. The presence of Uncle Ben and Mrs.

Sedley was a restraint upon them, and they conducted themselves with tolerable decorum. The band ceased playing, and Mrs. Sedley continued her instructions.

"What is a gulf or bay?"

"A portion of the sea extending into the land."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Weston Bay," replied Fred, laughing.

"And perhaps, before the expedition concludes its voyage, we shall find something which may be called a gulf."

"I know where there is a gulf," said Charles.

"Now, Frank, you may go through the strait," said Fred.

"Is it safe? I don't know how deep the water is."

"I am glad to see you are careful," said Mrs. Sedley. "You can ask Uncle Ben."

"Sylph, ahoy!" shouted Frank, rising.

"What boat's that?" roared Uncle Ben, in reply.

"The Zephyr, of and from Rippleton," returned the c.o.xswain. "Can you tell me what depth of water there is in this pa.s.sage?"

"Where's your chart?"

"We must have a chart of the lake," suggested Fred.

"That we must. Who shall draw it?"

"Fred Harper."

"We have no chart. Will you give me the depth of water inside the island?" continued Frank.

"Short fathom," replied Uncle Ben.

"We are none the wiser," interposed Charles. "How much is a fathom?"

"Six feet," answered Tony.

"But he don't say how much short."

"Can we go through in safety, Uncle Ben?"

"Ay, ay; but trail your oars."

Frank let the crew pull several smart strokes, and then ordered them to trail. The Zephyr darted through the narrow pa.s.sage.

"Now for the name of the strait," said Frank.

"You seem to be at a loss for names; I think you had better call these divisions after the members of the club," suggested Mrs. Sedley.

"So we can; the memory of great travellers and navigators has been handed down to their posterity by geographical names,--Hudson Bay, Mount Franklin, Cook's Straits, for example," said Fred Harper, laughing heartily.

The proposition received a ready a.s.sent; and the strait was called Graham Strait, after the boy who pulled the second oar.

"But the island?" said Charles.

"Paul Spencer pulls the third oar; we will call it Spencer Island."