He put out his hand and McCoy's fingers tightened over his. Then McCoy watched him go down the gangway and take his place beside Dickie Lang in the Richard.
"You don't mean to tell me that's Diablo?"
Hawkins wiped his dripping face and stared at the misty blot on the purpling horizon.
Gregory and Dickie Lang looked up from their scrutiny of the small clock on the Richard's dash and smiled:
"Two hours and ten minutes to here," Gregory announced. "We can make it easy in two hours and a half, and we've been bucking a head wind and sea all the way over. If the Fuor d'Italia can do this well, Mascola will certainly have to show me."
Bronson smiled but made no comment.
As the island loomed across their track, Dickie directed a change of course.
"Cut in close to that big cliff on the northeast corner and we'll work our way along close in to the shore."
Bronson complied. Then the girl turned to Gregory.