When they left Pensacola the weather appeared favorable; but at this season of the year nothing can be taken for granted; so that the experienced cruiser is accustomed to keeping a strict watch for signs of storms.
They had need of caution about this time, since there arose a necessity for considerable outside work, always dangerous in small boats, because of shallow water near the shore, and an absence of suitable harbors in which to seek shelter, should a sudden gale arise.
If all went well, they anticipated making it a one-night stop between Pensacola and Mobile; and Jack thought he had the place for this camp picked out on his coast chart, which he studied faithfully.
So, as this day moved along, they were putting the miles behind them at a steady rate. George had no new trouble with his engine, though it was noticed that he cut out some of his racing ahead of the others. Constant friction from water will wear away granite in time; and the numerous and long-continued troubles of George must be making an impression on his usually buoyant spirits.
“Alabama, here we rest!” sang out Jack, about five in the afternoon, as he pointed ahead to where a friendly island or key offered them the shelter they craved.
“Oh! I’m so glad!” Nick was heard to say, and they could easily guess why; for of course Nick must be ravenously hungry—he nearly always was.
Accordingly they headed in, meaning to pass behind the end of the key that jutted out like a human finger, offering an asylum to all small craft that could gain the sheltered water behind.
It was just while they were slowing up, since caution had to be exercised whenever they neared shoal waters, that Herb called out excitedly:
“Oh! Jack, look out yonder; what in the dickens is that coming along, and sticking out of the water?”
Of course every eye was instantly turned in the direction Herb was pointing.