“Where?”
“Over the port bow. Change your course a little to starboard—there’s a mud bank just under water ahead and we must sail round it.”
“Quasi at last!” exclaimed Tom gleefully, as he pushed the helm to port and hauled in the sheet a trifle in order to spill none of the all too scanty breeze.
Instantly Dick and Larry were wide awake, and for a time conversation quickened as Cal pointed out the salient features of the land ahead.
“How far away do you reckon it, Cal?” asked Dick.
“About five miles.”
“Is it clear water? Can we lay a straight course?”
“Yes, after we clear this mud bank. A little more to starboard, Tom, or you’ll go aground.”
“We ought to make it by nightfall then,” said Larry—“unless this plaything of a breeze fails us entirely.”
“We’ll make it sooner than that,” said Dick, standing up and steadying himself by the mast. “Look, Cal. There’s business in that.”