Naturally the boys felt exceedingly nervous every minute of the time. Jack had reduced speed, for he did not wish to run past the mouth of Winyah Bay, if such a thing could be prevented by due caution.
An hour crept along. It seemed like three times that length of time to every one of the listening lads. All this while they had managed to catch that low throbbing sound from the shore. Sometimes it would be very faint, and require careful work in order to locate it; then again the beat of the waves on the sandy strand came quite distinctly.
Somehow, as long as they could catch this reassuring sound, they seemed to feel renewed confidence. And yet the strain was terrible. The day was passing, and if night came on, to find them still groping their way in this incertain manner down the South Carolina coast, the prospect would seem gloomy indeed.
No one seemed to care to eat much. Even Nick, for the time being, had gone back on that wonderful appetite of his, and actually turned up his nose when George got out the bag that contained hard tack and cheese, asking the fat boy if he cared to have a "snack" to fortify him against what might yet be in store for them.
"Excuse me," said Nick, loftily. "There are times to eat, but according to my way of thinking this ain't one of 'em. When a feller has to do a lot of high thinking he'd be wise to keep his mind clear and let grub alone."
Truth to tell, Nick was feeling rather squeamish. The swell rolled the narrow boat more than had been the case when they kept further out; and besides, such were his fears that they affected his nerves, and also his stomach.
"All right," said George, who did not happen to be in the same condition, "I'm not a big feeder, but it's always wise to keep up your strength. And talking about letting grub alone, when you once get ashore again the way you'll pitch in must make our supplies look sad. I know you, Nick; you can't fool me."
Nick disdained to make any reply. He even turned his back on the skipper when George started to munch biscuit and cheese.
"What time is it?" asked George, after a while, upon seeing the fat boy look at his little nickel watch, for the tenth time at least.
"Just three o'clock!" groaned Nick, sadly replacing his timepiece and looking longingly toward the west, where he knew solid ground lay, if only they could ever set feet upon it once more.