Slowly Alec proceeded along the edge of the slick, passing one after another the markers he had set up, and lifting them as he came to them. The edge of the slick, of course, followed the line of the depression in the bottom. Alec knew it ought to do so, and the white flags proved that it did. On and on went Alec, studying the current, watching every wave and swirl in the tide. At the same time, he kept before him the map of the oyster-beds, marking down on the map as accurately as possible the edge of the slick. How far to the side this slick extended Alec did not know. He could determine that later. What he did know—at least he felt sure he knew it—was that every oyster-bed lying in this slick was a prime oyster ground. He would know for sure when he had made larvæ tests of water from the different beds.
For two or three miles Alec proceeded. The slick was still plainly discernible, and whenever Alec took soundings he found that the depression continued. At last he came to the point for which he was heading—the last lot of ground that had been staked. Beyond that was a vast area that any man might claim. So eager to see what he should find, so fearful and yet so hopeful was Alec, that he almost held his breath as he bent forward and peered out over the unstaked water. Would the slick continue through the unleased areas or would it not?
"It does! It does!" cried Alec aloud, as he sailed past the very last oyster stake. As far as he could see, the water before him was sharply divided into two areas—one that rippled roughly as the tide swept onward, the other as smooth as though it had been rubbed with grease.
Into this smooth stretch of water Alec turned the Osprey. Then, his hands atremble with eagerness, he brought forth his testing apparatus and began to strain water from the bottom through his filter net. Here, there, over yonder, Alec pumped up water, until he had samples from a large acreage. His settling bottles were numbered, and on his chart he marked the location from which each sample came. At the same time he took soundings and tested the water for density and temperature. All these things he likewise set down on his chart. So eager was he to begin his count, that he could scarcely wait to stow away his instruments when he had done straining water. But when he started to use his microscope, he found that the wind had freshened so much he could not work well. It was blowing directly against the current, throwing up sizable rollers, and the Osprey was too unsteady for the trying work in hand. There was nothing to do but get to smooth water, and that meant to leave the Bay, for now whitecaps were breaking everywhere.
At first Alec hardly knew where to go. He thought of running into the mouth of the river. But that idea did not please him because passing boatmen might annoy him or at least interrupt him. And anyway, Alec preferred to carry on his investigations without others knowing about them. He had learned pretty well the fact that not everybody was to be trusted. Alec also thought of going to the point of land where he and Elsa had eaten their dinner. That did not seem altogether suitable, either. Finally he decided to head for the Osprey's Nest. If no one was in sight when he got there, he would go in. If any one were by to watch him, he would pull into some neighboring inlet. As fast as his engine would take him, Alec drove through the waves. When he reached the shore just off the Osprey's Nest, not a boat of any sort was in sight. He shut off his power, pushed his little craft up the secret channel, and soon lay at anchor in his snug retreat. The shade was grateful and the Osprey was as steady as a rock. He could work in comfort and in perfect security.
Hour after hour Alec stuck to his job. At times his eyes ached so from the strain that he had to leave his microscope and bathe them in the salt sea water that he dipped up with a bucket. At noon he paused long enough to cook himself a warm meal and flash a greeting to Elsa. Then he went on with his work. As long as he could hold himself to his task he continued to count. Bottle after bottle he emptied, picking out one by one with his little needle thousands upon thousands of oyster larvæ. Again and again, as the day wore on, he laid down his implements, meaning to quit. And as often he picked them up after an interval, to do just a little bit more. There were limits to his endurance. His eyes would function only so long. But his soul was indomitable. So he kept on and on and on, until dusk found him with his task completed. When he talked to Elsa that night he was able to tell her that he had found the great secret. At least he believed he had. He had discovered an unstaked area that he believed to be as good a place for oysters as any ground in the Bay.
Long after he turned away from his wireless, Alec sat on the deck of the Osprey. By every rule of the game he should have been asleep in his bunk. Physically he was worn out by the strain of his intense concentration. But mentally he was afire. The task that had tired his body had stimulated his brain to unusual activity. His vision was almost prophetic. He pictured the future as he wished it to be. And though his mental image was not an exact representation of life as it proved to be, it was a marvelous approximation. Nor was that strange. For Alec was learning that the more sharply he defined his ambitions, and the more exactly he pictured his path, the more likely he was to see his dreams become realities. He needed a map for his life, just as truly as he needed a chart for his oyster-beds.
Now, as he sat, silent, in the Osprey, his mind aglow with rosy pictures, the difficulties that once had seemed so insurmountable shrank and shrank until they appeared but mole-hills. Though he did not put it in so many words, Alec was coming to realize that a big accomplishment is only a great dream backed by prodigious labor. Labor is the thing it is made of, but without the inspiration of the dream the labor is impossible. So he let himself dream on and on in the darkness, resting on some soft cushions, listening to the gentle sigh of the wind as it stirred the leaves above his head, dimly conscious of the stirrings of birds, the faint splashings of muskrats in the marsh above him, the quavering call of a distant owl. Overhead the stars twinkled. Light patches of cloud floated in the sky. The waters of the Bay washed the shores gently but audibly. The world was in repose. And at last Alec slept with it.