We'll have
a tough time tacking home against such a breeze as this. May be it'll
change before night."

"Capt'in Dab," calmly remarked Dick, "we's on'y a mile to run."

"Well, what of it?"

"Is you goin' fo' de inlet?"

"Of course. What else can we do? That's what we started for."

"Looks kind o' dirty, dat's all."

So far as Ford could see, both the sky and the water looked clean
enough, but Dick was right about the weather. In fact, if Captain Dabney
Kinzer had been a more experienced and prudent seaman, he would have
kept the "Swallow" inside the bar, that day, at any risk of Ford
Foster's good opinion. As it was, even Dick Lee's keen eyes hardly
comprehended how threatening was the foggy haze that was lying low on
the water, miles and miles away to seaward.

It was magnificently exciting fun, at all events, and the "Swallow"
fully merited all that had been said in her favor. The "mile to run" was
a very short one, and it seemed to Ford Foster that the end of it would
bring them up high and dry on the sandy beach.

The narrow "strait" of the inlet was hardly visible at any considerable
distance. It opened to view, however, as they drew near, and Dab Kinzer
rose higher than ever in his friend's good opinion as the swift little
vessel shot unerringly into the contracted channel.

"Pretty near where we're to try our fishing, aint we?" he asked.

"Just outside, there. Get ready, Dick. Sharp now!"

And then, in another minute, the white sails were down, jib and main,
the "Swallow" was drifting along under "bare poles," and Dick Lee and
Ford were waiting for orders to drop the grapnel.

"Heave!"

Over went the iron.

"Now for some weak-fish. It's about three fathoms, and the tide's near
the turn."

Alas for human calculations! The grapnel caught on the bottom, surely
and firmly; but the moment there came any strain on the seemingly stout
hawser that held it, the latter parted like a thread, and the "Swallow"
was adrift!

"Somebody's done gone cut dat rope!" shouted Dick, as he caught up the
treacherous bit of hemp.

There was an anxious look on Dab's face for a moment, as he shouted:
"Sharp now, boys, or we'll be rolling in the surf in three minutes! Haul
away, Dick! Haul with him, Ford! Up with her! There, that'll give us
headway."

Ford Foster looked out to seaward, even as he hauled his best on the
sail halliards. All along the line of the coast, at distances varying
from a hundred yards or so t