Back to the yacht they finally went, however, and the Nautilus again turned her nose down the upper bay.
On one side lay Brooklyn, on the other Jersey City, while about them craft of all shapes and sizes puffed and snorted as they performed their daily tasks.
On down into the lower bay the yacht went skimming, breasting the heavy swells of the Atlantic, and causing exclamations of delight from both Molly and Dorothy, neither of whom had ever been this far at sea.
Down between the upper quarantine and the Staten Island shore they went at a speed of twelve knots, then, rounding the lower quarantine, stood straight for Rockaway Beach.
It was too early in the season for any of the resorts to be open, hence the girls were unable to view the scenes of activity that make these famous places the mecca of the bathers in the warm season.
“I imagine I should like to spend a summer here,” said Dorothy.
“And perhaps some of these days you will have the opportunity—who knows?” remarked Aunt Betty.
“Well, when she comes I must be included in the party or there will be big trouble,” Molly put in.
“Lots of trouble you’d make your best chum, young lady,” replied Aunt Betty, chucking the Judge’s daughter playfully under the chin.
After a run of some twenty minutes, the yacht again turned, this time nosing its way back along the coast toward the lower bay.