“Suppose we get along to the island,” Mr. Parker interposed, glancing at the sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
“Oh, it won’t rain for hours,” Jack said carelessly. “Those clouds are moving slowly and we’ll reach the island within ten minutes.”
Helping Penny and Mr. Parker into the motorboat, he stowed the luggage under the seat and then cast off. In a sweeping circle, the craft sped past a canbuoy which marked a shoal, and out into the swift current.
Penny held tightly to her straw hat to keep it from being blown downstream. A stiff breeze churned the waves which spanked hard against the bow of the boat.
“My father was sorry he couldn’t meet you himself!” Jack hurled at them above the whistle of the wind. “He was held up at the airplane factory—labor trouble or something of the sort.”
Mr. Parker nodded, his good humor entirely restored. Settling comfortably in the leather seat, he focused his gaze on distant Shadow Island.
“Good fishing around here?” he inquired.
“The best ever. You’ll like it, sir.”
Jack was nearly seventeen, with light hair and steel blue eyes. His white trousers were none too well pressed and the sleeves of an old sweater bore smears of grease. Steering the boat with finger-tip control, he deliberately cut through the highest of the waves, treating his passengers to a series of jolts.
Some distance away, a ferryboat, the River Queen, glided smoothly along, its railings thronged with people. In the pilot house, a girl who might have been sixteen, stood at the wheel.