"She's swinging around," said Pete, abruptly, pointing out into the harbor.
The Sunshine was turning to port and now showed her profile. But she was not turning far enough to cruise back in her own wake. Her new course was almost at a right angle to that she had been following, and she seemed bent upon pursuing it briskly.
Pete gasped and leaped to his feet.
"Come on!" he cried.
The rocky promontory that sheltered one end of their little beach was cutting off a view of the yacht. He raced along the strip of sand, with Mary at his heels, quite unconscious of her missing skirt and certainly a gainer in freedom of movement through the lack of it.
Pete climbed the rocks at reckless speed and she followed him, heedless of the rough places. He was poised rigidly on an eminence as she scrambled up beside him.
"Damnation!"
He said it so fervently that it seemed to Mary the most sincere word he had ever spoken.
"Do you see what they're doing?" he cried, seizing her arm. "Look! They're heading out of the harbor!"