"Nough fer a man-uv-war," grinned old Captain Hodgins.
Slowly the Flying Fish forged ahead till right under her bow lay a patch of the yellow water.
"By-a-half-two," came a sharp hail from the fat youth, who had once more heaved the lead.
"Cut her down some more," sharply ordered Rob, without turning his head, "we draw only three feet so I guess we'll do nicely for a while."
"Great hop-toads, there's regular shark's teeth ahead," commented Captain Hudgins, pointing to the still shallower water indicated by the lightening tint of the channel.
"By-one-by-a-quarter-one!" came sharply from Tubby, as the Flying Fish seemed hardly to crawl along the water.
"By-a-half!" came an instant later, meaning that only three feet of water lay right ahead.
"Stop her," roared out Rob.
But he was too late. Instantly, almost as Merritt's hand had flown to the lever, the nose of the Flying Fish poked into the sandbank and her motor with a gentle sigh came to a stop.
"Hard a-ground!" roared the captain, "too bad and with a fallin' tide, too."