“'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That showed they was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the world like a dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares.
“'I can smell home,' he says.
“Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant two. They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it.
“'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're plumb over to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.'
“'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever 'tis, we can't anchor in the middle of it.'
“'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to DO?'
“'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know that smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. That was the bar and we're over it.'
“The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old Debby S. slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot under her keel and sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven and a half. Zach and 'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only smiled.
“'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're runnin' into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money—'
“Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'.