So we sailed off, tacking and twiddling around, and it grew darker and darker, and then the moon began to come up. “Keep as close as you can to that shore,” says Catty, motioning with his thumb.
“Aye, aye, sir,” says the young man.
Well, we fooled around maybe an hour, and then I heard a little motor boat coming, and Catty leaned over and squinted hard. “Bet it’s them,” says he.
“Who?” says I.
“The Porpoises, of course,” says he. “What you think I’m fooling around here for?”
“The only way to find out,” says I, as sarcastic as I could make it, “was to come along and see. I’m seeing.”
“Keep right at it,” says he, “and don’t let your eyes get tired.... It’s their dinghy, sure as shooting.”
The dinghy went past us, maybe a hundred yards off, and kept on going.
“Follow them,” says Catty.
So we did, and pretty soon we could hear that they had stopped the motor.