“Who knows how long ‘by-’n-by’ may mean? I’d like to get out of here,” added John.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Rob, after they had waited for perhaps another half-hour. “These men have left us, and now we’ll leave them in turn. The sea is pretty rough, but this is a good boat and we can run her. We can go back that way, and get to the mouth of the channel, because I noticed which way the wind was blowing. Town must be off to the left, and we can keep track of the shore by the echo. I’m for pulling out right away.”
“So am I,” assented John. And Jesse, although he looked rather sober at the sight of the white-topped waves, agreed.
By great good-luck they were able to push the dory out with the receding crest of a big wave, and the first thing they knew they were pitching up and down in the white water. By hard pulling they got the boat offshore, and being there outside the more broken water made fairly good headway, although they found the boat heavy and hard to pull.
“We can’t make it,” said Rob, at last. “She’s too big for us to pull against the wind, and that’s the way we must go if we go toward town. I’m afraid we’ll have to go ashore again.”
“Look, look there!” cried John, suddenly.
They all stopped rowing for a moment and gazed ahead.
A towering ridge of white, foamy waves arose directly in front of them, higher than their heads had they stood upright in the boat. Swirling and breaking, it seemed to advance and march down upon them. The surface of the water was agitated as though some great creature were lashing it into foam. But soon they saw that this was something worse than any creature of the deep.
“It’s the tide-rips!” cried Rob, anxiously. “The tide-bore is going out the channel—I’ve heard them tell of that before. Look out, now! Give way, and put her into it quartering, or it’ll swamp us, sure!”