ole, he
listened. Quite plainly and, as it seemed, from alarmingly nearby, came
the gentle _swish-swash_ of tiny waves breaking on a beach. In the fog
it was difficult to tell whether the sound came from directly ahead or
from starboard. At all events, when Steve turned his head to port the
sound was certainly at his right or behind him.

"I'll try it again," he said. "You stay here, Phil." He climbed back to
the bridge deck. "Perry, are you working that fog-horn?" he demanded.
"If you aren't, get busy with it!" Once more the cruiser picked up and
stole forward, her nose slowly swinging around to port. Steve had given
up watching the compass now. All he wanted to do was find clear water.
The _swish_ of surf died away by degrees as the _Adventurer_ edged
cautiously along and, after five minutes, Steve gave a sigh of relief.
"I guess we're all right now," he muttered to Joe, "but I'm going to
keep her just moving. We might anchor, I suppose, but it's dollars to
doughnuts we'd have to spend the night here; wherever here is," he
added, scowling resentfully at the chart. "Look here, Joe." He reached
forward and laid a finger on the map. "Here's where we were, or where
we ought to have been, when we heard the surf first. According to this
we were a good mile from the shore and the only shoal is that one and
it's marked six feet at mean low water. There's a black-and-red spar
buoy there, as you see, but we haven't sighted it. Now, what I want to
know is how the dickens we could have got a mile off our course to
starboard. Also, if we are off our course, where are we? Unless we've
slipped over the beach and got into that pond down there--"

"_Steve! Back up! We're running on the rocks!_"

It was the frenzied voice of Phil in the bow. Steve thrust Joe aside and
seizing the clutch put it quickly into neutral.

"Bring the boat-hook here!" shouted Phil. "Reverse, Steve! Hard!"

But Steve had already slammed the clutch into reverse and pulled down
the throttle. A mighty thrashing and foaming sounded astern and the
_Adventurer_ trembled, hesitated and began to churn her way backward.
Perry, boat-hook in hand, was sliding and stumbling along the wet deck.
He reached the bow just in time to see the menacing face of a high stone
jetty disappear again into the mist. Phil, clinging to the flag-pole,
was sprawled on the deck with his legs stretched out to fend the boat
off.

"Just in time!" he muttered, pulling himself back to safety