"What's this mean, Jack?" asked George, a couple of hours later, falling back somewhat so that he might exchange words with the others.
"Yes," said Herb at that; "it's getting as dark as the mischief. Guess we're going to have that storm Jack prophesied this morning, fellows."
"Say, perhaps I'd better be shooting ahead, then," suggested George, uneasily. "You know this cranky boat of mine isn't the nicest thing going, to be in when the waves are rolling ten feet high. And it's so wide here, they'll beat that, in a pinch."
"What would you be after going ahead for, then?" asked Jimmy.
"So as to get to that creek with the lovely name we talked about," George replied, looking troubled, nevertheless. "I noted its position on the chart, and think I might find it."
"But if the storm caught you beforehand, you'd be in a bad pickle, George!" declared Jack, soberly. "No, better all keep together. Then, if an accident happens, there's some chance for the others lending a helping hand. But we'll head in more toward the Delaware side, though if the wind strikes us from the east it'll be a bad place to be caught on a lee shore."
Nothing more was said just then. They changed their course somewhat, and the three little motor boats continued to push steadily forward. Meanwhile the gloom seemed to gather around them, until even stout-hearted Jack shuddered a little as he surveyed the wide stretch of waters that had begun to tumble in the freshening wind, and thought what might happen if they could find no harbor, with a fierce late equinoctial gale sweeping across the dangerous bay.