“I do, too,” agreed Terry.
“Pull in your sail!” ordered the captain, good-naturedly. “It didn’t hurt me any. We’re a considerable spell further out than we were yesterday, ain’t we?”
“Yes,” Jim agreed, anxiously. “Can we get back?”
The captain tossed his oilskins aside. “We sure can. We’re about three miles off of that island now. The water’s running pretty heavy right now, but put on the power anyway. We’ve got to get back to that island.”
The sloop was soon under full power, headed back toward the low island. The captain surrendered the tiller to Jim and went below to make coffee, which warmed them and buoyed up their spirits.
It took them more than an hour to run back to the island, but at the end of that time they dropped anchor in the cove, where the dinghy had been placed on the sands. But there was no dinghy there now, and Jim was worried.
“Let’s hope Don didn’t take to the dinghy and was lost in the storm,” he said.
But the captain shook his head. “Don’t believe it,” he declared, stoutly. “Well, here is where we raid that nest in the woods. Only this time I suggest that Jim stays on the ship, and you, Terry, come with me.”
“Can’t we all go?” Jim cried.
“Nope. I’d like you to stay here, while Terry and me see what we can stir up in that place.”