All at once Peggy uttered a shrill cry.
“Oh, Roy! The sea!”
Above the screeching of the wind and the hum of the motor they could now hear another sound, the thunder of the surf on the beach.
Straining his eyes ahead Roy could see now the white gleam of the breakers as they broke in showers of spray on the seashore. A real sense of terror, such as he had never felt before, clutched at his heart as he heard and saw.
But controlling his voice, he turned to Peggy.
“Be brave, little sister,” he said; “we’ll pull through all right.”
Peggy said nothing in response. She dared not trust her voice to speak just at that moment. White faced and with staring, fixed eyes, she sat motionless and silent, as the Golden Butterfly was driven out above the roaring surf and the tossing waves. To her alarmed imagination the sea seemed to be reaching up hungry arms for the two daring young aviators.
Suddenly she was half blinded by a brilliant flash of light which bathed the aeroplane in a flood of radiance. The next instant it was gone, but they could see the great shaft of radiance sweeping around the compass.
“It’s the light!” cried Roy. “The Rocky Point light!”