“Where to?”
“Back to Pratt’s Cove.”
“And where is that?”
No one could answer that. Each one looked around carefully, in order to see if he could find any place which looked like Pratt’s Cove. But there were two difficulties in the way of any such discovery. In the first place, they had approached Pratt’s Cove in the dark, and did not know how it looked; and in the second place, they could not see any spot that looked like a cove at all.
All around them was the bay. Before them was the Parrsboro’ shore. Behind them was Blomidon. On one side, and a little in front, were the Five Islands about six miles distant; beyond which the waters of the bay extended, till they faded away into a low, indistinct lino of coast. They could understand, in a general way, that Pratt’s Cove lay somewhere in front of them, but they could not guess within twenty miles of the place.
“Let’s up sail,” said Tom, “and run up there. It looks like a cove;” and he pointed to a hollow in the line of hills.
“O, the hills around Pratt’s Cove are higher than that,” said Bruce.
“Suppose we sail over and ask O’Rafferty.”
“Very well. I agree to that,” said Bart. “Bruce, you can steer.”
“No. You may as well steer,” said Bruce.