Don swam to him. “How do you like it, kid?”
“It’s great stuff,” Terry gasped. “There certainly is plenty of room to swim in!”
Under these conditions the boys only swam for fifteen minutes, keeping close to the sloop. When they were once more clad in dry clothes they felt invigorated and healthy as they never had before. Supper, consisting of beans and potatoes and some peaches, tasted very good to them.
As evening came on the sea became rougher and rougher, and the brothers agreed to anchor somewhere in port for the night. They were now out of sight of the mainland, and Jim proposed that they run back to the coast. But Don, who was looking intently across the starboard bow, called his attention to a long low black mass just visible above the waves.
“Isn’t that Mystery Island?” Don asked.
Jim looked and then went down the companionway steps, to unfold the marine map and look at it closely. Presently his head appeared above the combing.
“That’s it, all right. Not thinking of anchoring near there, are you?”
Don nodded. “Yes, I am. It is a whole lot nearer the boat than the main shore is. I don’t see why we can’t run in and heave to.”
“The place hasn’t got a very good reputation, Don!”
“Nonsense, Jim. Most of the tales you hear about Mystery Island are false to begin with, and besides, I’m not afraid of a lot of old legends. I guess we can find a good cove there to anchor in until this storm blows over. Spin the motor, will you?”