They were thick, dark clouds, and the wind was blowing them in toward the shore.
“It might,” admitted the captain, his blue eyes twinkling. “But the wind’s a tricky friend. You never know just where you’re going to land, once you give right up to him. I’d rather pin my faith to this little comrade here,” patting the tarpaulin that covered the noisy little engine and kept it dry.
When the rain came it fell in big splashy drops, and the wind began to moan. Sunny Boy was glad to see the land ahead, and he thought the way Captain Franklin steered the Rocket in alongside the little rickety wharf nothing short of wonderful.
“Here we are!” announced the captain cheerfully. “And I guess you’ve had enough sea-voyaging for one afternoon, heh?”
Sunny Boy agreed with him. Mr. Horton stayed to thank the good captain and to pay him for taking them out in the motor-boat, and Sunny Boy and his mother picked their way along the beach, intending to cross to the road where the sand was firmer. The rain had settled down into a steady drizzle.
“I hope the little boy who finds my boat will take good care of it,” said Sunny Boy. He couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful Billow he had lost. “I was just as sure I could catch it, Mother.”
“Oh, darling, don’t talk any more about it!” exclaimed his mother, stopping to hug him. “When I think of you out on that great ocean, all alone in that flimsy boat—well, I don’t see how I can ever love the sea again.”
“Why, it was a very nice sea,” insisted Sunny Boy. “Only it’s too salty to drink. What’s that in the sand, Mother—paper from sandwiches?”
He ran a little forward to look.
“Mother!” he shouted, kneeling in the wet sand and beginning to dig frantically. “Mother! I’ve found The Billow!”