“Me too,” said Dorothy. “Well, here we are at the motor sailor. Nothing to keep us longer on this island. I vote we shove off.”
“Second the motion. Hop aboard and go aft. Your weight in the stern will help to raise her bow so I can push her out without breaking my back.”
“How’s that?” called Dorothy a minute later.
“Fine! Stand by for a shove!”
A heave of his shoulder against the bow loosened the boat’s keel from the sand and Bill sprang aboard as she glided into deep water.
“Don’t suppose there’s a chart of the lower bay stowed in one of those lockers?” he remarked as he started the engine. “The shallows are going to be the limit to navigate without running aground. Do you mind seeing what you can find, Dorothy?”
“Not at all—seeing I’ve already found one,” she laughed. “Came across it when I was looking for food.”
“Good.” Bill took over the wheel. “Let me see it, will you?”
Dorothy passed over the map. Bill studied it with a hand on the wheel.
“Thank goodness the deeper channels are marked,” he ruminated, “that’s a help, anyway.”