“I don’t reckon there’ll be much danger in that. If there’s no land to be seen when the sun sets it’s precious little chance she’ll run any down before morning. Is the island out of sight yet?”
“No, but we’ve sailed a great deal further than I thought would be possible in so short a time. Of course it is in full view, but you can’t distinguish anything on the shore.”
“And we couldn’t get back if it should become necessary?”
“Not without wind.”
“Then the only thing is to make the best of it. All hands of us had rather be here, taking our chances of ever getting into port, than back on the island to make the start over again. So what’s the use of being down in the mouth about having been able to do exactly as you wanted?”
It was such talk as this which made Ned feel decidedly comfortable in mind, and by the time dinner had been cooked and eaten he was as jolly as ever.
Until about four o’clock in the afternoon there was nothing to be done except loaf around wishing for a breeze, and then the wind sprang up again in the same direction as before.
Ned was at the helm when the sails began to flap, and once more the Zoe was gliding through the water with her short bowsprit pointed due west.
Both Roy and Vance were on the lookout, each hoping to see some signs of land, but the hours wore away until the key was only a faint smudge on the horizon, and around them nothing save water.
“We’re in for a night-run,” Roy said cheerily as the sun began to sink behind the sea, “and most likely by morning we shall have something to guide us.”