“Steer straight,” said Mark. “There’s not much room, rocks one side, shoal the other; it’s not a pistol-shot wide—”
“Not half a pistol-shot.”
“We’re going. Hark! bubbles!”
Volume Two—Chapter Seven.
Sailing Continued—“There She Lay, All The Day!”
Bevis had eased off, and the boat was sailing right before the wind, which blew direct into the gulf. Mark crawled up more into the bow to see better and shout directions to the pilot.
“Left—left.”
“Port.”