“So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas blowin' hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. Zach he wanted to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. Nobody paid much attention to him.
“'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman aboard.
“'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. 'Guess we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale holds.'
“So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if their reck'nin' was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five fathom. No flats about that.
“Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks 'Bije.
“'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' this craft. I'm only passenger.'
“'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do think?'
“'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly 'twill fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to lay out here all day. Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.'
“'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been acrost the bar by this time.'
“'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far inshore, we would have made the bar—the Bayport bar—if not the Trumet one. And if we're off the course and too far out, we'd ought to have deeper water than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course I'm not sure, but—What's that, lands-man?'