It was about six o’clock when Toby’s longing gaze was rewarded by the flicker of a distant light which told him that they were drawing near to Robins Island. A few minutes later there was a barely perceptible decrease in the pitching of the launch and the wind blew with less force. Toby ran on until within what he believed to be a quarter of a mile from the shore and then swung the Urnove to port and, in calmer water now, ran toward the northern end of the island. Presently Arnold, who had gone back to bailing at the approach to land, shouted from the stern.
“Lights, Toby! Is that Cutchogue?”
“New Suffolk. Cutchogue’s beyond.”
“How much further is it?”
“The harbor’s about a mile around this point. I’m swinging around now.”
“Hooray!” yelled Arnold. “Oh, you harbor!”
Nassau Point, which stretches far into Little Peconic Bay beyond the harbor south, broke the force of wind and tide and after they left the lights along the water-front at New Suffolk behind they had smooth sailing. They towed the Sinbad well up into the harbor and at last Toby took the megaphone and hailed the cruiser.
“All right here?” he asked. “I don’t know this place very well.”