It was indeed getting rougher, and the motor boats bobbed up and down on the long swells. But as yet none had broken over the bows. Cora dreaded this, not because of any particular danger, but because of the effect it would have on her chums, particularly Belle, who, try as she might, could not conquer her nervous dread of the water.
The boys started a song, and the girls joined in, but a sudden dash of spray over the Pet’s stem brought a scream from Belle that made a discord, and they all stopped.
Jack, who was steering the Duck, stood up and looked ahead. They were approaching the point around which they must go to reach their own cove.
“Can we do it, old man?” asked Walter, in a low voice.
“We’ll try,” answered Jack, equally low. “If we give up now the girls will get scared. We’ll keep on a bit longer, and see where we come out.”
“Can’t you get a bit nearer in shore?” asked Norton.
“It’s risky,” said Jack. “It’s low tide now, and while this old tub doesn’t draw much there are a lot of rocks here and there, sticking almost up at low water. If we hit on one of them we’ll be in the pot for fair. The only thing to do is to stand out, and trust to luck. Once around the point we’ll be all right.”
“They’re coming in,” said Walter, nodding toward Cora and the others.
“Keep out! Keep out!” cried Jack. “It’s dangerous.”
“But the girls want to land!” cried his sister.