"Not unless there's a current here."
"Wonder if they've missed us yet?"
"What time is it?"
"One o'clock."
"Then they've missed us all right. It's past time for dinner."
Another hour went by and the fog was as dense as ever. The gentle rise and fall of the boat had lulled Jack to sleep and Bob was having hard work to keep awake when a slight sound caught his ear.
"That's the surf," he said half aloud as he picked up the oars and began rowing toward the sound.
Shortly he was sure he was right as the sound came nearer and, after rowing for perhaps twenty minutes, the boat, carried forward by the swell, ran up onto the sand and, as the wave receded, came to a sudden stop.
The jar awoke Jack and he sat up rubbing his eyes.
"Did we hit the United States?" he asked.