"She's been haunting the coast," said Anthony.
Tom Horn laughed, and he pointed away to the northeast.
"There are the shoals," he said. "There are the white ghosts. That's why the brig's people are here. They know every set of teeth on the coast." He looked at Anthony. "Have they been searching?"
"They have had boats out," said the young man.
Tom Horn nodded.
"Such as they take nothing for granted. No ship is to be seen broken on the bars but they know what a great storm can do; they know how it can rend its victim, and then cover it with the smothering sand."
Anthony frowned out at the brig, lying so peacefully in the white track of the moon.
"They set out to find a wreck, then?" he said.
"A month ago," said Tom Horn. "They manned yonder vessel for no other purpose than to pick and search along the coast. This shoal was one they had well in the front of their minds. And the hulk they hope to sight is that of the Rufus Stevens."
All three stood looking out at the vessel across the flattened line of surf.