"It looks a little risky," said Washburn, shaking his head.
"I think not; the tide will be high in about an hour, and that will give about eight feet and a half on the shoalest places," I replied. "I don't think we are drawing over eight feet now."
"Eight and a half, sure. We might scrape over the bottom an hour from now; but we shall stick as sure as we run into that narrow channel. The worst place is just on the edge of the breakers."
"Sail on the port bow, sir," said Ben Bowman.
It was a small schooner, which I thought might be a fisherman. She was headed directly for the narrow channel. As we were nearly up with the opening, I rang for the engineer to stop and back her. But the little schooner had to beat up, and as she was still about two miles off, I was soon tired of waiting for her. I rang to go ahead again, and headed the Sylvania in a direction to intercept the schooner. A few minutes brought us within hail of her.
"Schooner ahoy!" shouted Washburn.
"'Schooner ahoy!' shouted Washburn."
Page 122.
"On board of the steamer!" replied the skipper of the craft.
"Where are you bound?" demanded the mate.