“That will help. We won’t do any diving in water over, say, fifty feet. But, Derek, there’s lots and lots of water around here.”
And there was. The coast line and pitons of Martinique were plainly visible, a lush green of wild growth, with fern trees rising as high as maples. West were the endless waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
“We’ll need all the ‘bonne chance’ we can get,” Biff’s uncle commented.
It took about an hour to make the run from Treasure Bay to the islands off Le François. Biff was still at the wheel. His uncle took out a pair of binoculars and swept his gaze over the island group.
“Over there, Biff. That larger one, right between those two smaller ones. Cut your speed. We don’t know how these waters shoal. Derek, go forward. Watch for bottom.”
The cruiser approached the shore slowly.
“Plenty of water,” Derek sang out. Then, “Sand. I see sand bottom,” he called a little later.
“Ease her in, Biff. That small cove. See if you can take her in there. Give us some protection if a chabasco hits.”
The cruiser inched forward. The sound of the boat’s keel grating on the sand bottom came to their ears. Biff cut the engine. The cruiser ground to a stop five feet from shore.
“Perfect, Biff. We’ll get a little damp making the next five feet, but I kind of feel like a swim. How about it?” Uncle Charlie suggested.