He made a slow and deliberate inspection of the horizon.
"Is that it?" and Mary pointed.
Pete studied a stern view of a somewhat distant craft, shading his eyes from the sun.
"That's it," he announced. "And it's still moving."
"They must be going to anchor in another place. I think they might have waited until we reached them. Shall we follow?"
She did not wait for an answer, but fell once more into a steady trudgeon stroke that served her extremely well. Then she paused for another reconnaissance.
"The darn thing is still moving," declared Pete. "It's further off than when we first saw it. Now, what do you make out of that?"
Mary wrinkled her forehead into a moist frown as the water dripped from the tip of her nose.
"It's perfectly silly to try to catch it by swimming," she said. "They must have forgotten all about us. Why didn't they blow a whistle, or something?"
There was no question that the silhouette of the Sunshine had receded since their first observation. Pete tried to judge the distance; it was more than half a mile, he was certain.