CHAPTER VII
STEVE TAKES HER IN
Steve's hand flew to the clutch as the rest joined Phil at the side of the boat, and, in the grey silence that ensued, strained their ears.
"You're right," said Neil, after an instant. "There's surf there, or I'm a Dutchman. And it isn't far away."
Steve, who had handed the wheel to Joe, nodded. "It's surf, all right," he agreed, "but it hasn't any business there. What are you going to do when you can't depend on the chart? Well, the only thing for us to try is another direction." He swung the wheel well to port and slid the clutch in gently and, with the engine throttled down, the Adventurer nosed forward once more. "Phil, beat it out to the bow and keep your ears open, will you? Watch that deck, though; it's slippery." An anxious silence held for several minutes. Then Phil's voice came from the fog-hidden bow:
"Surf dead ahead, Steve!" he called.
"Can you see anything?" shouted Steve as he again disengaged.
"No, but I can hear the waves breaking."
They all could now that the propeller had stopped churning. Steve gazed dazedly from fog to compass and from compass to chart, and finally shook his head helplessly.
"It's too much for me, fellows," he said. "I'm going back as straight as I know how, or—" He stopped. "Hang it, there can't be land on all sides!" He pulled the bow still further to port and again started. "Keep your ears open, Phil," he called. "I'll run her as slow as she'll go. If you hear the surf plainer, shout."