“We’ll just go the way the wind went,” Jerry said. “Luckily, the storm came from the mainland and blew out to sea. That means there’s a good chance that the boat didn’t pile up on the shore. Of course, there are a lot of islands out there, and plenty of rocks, but there’s a lot more open water. With any luck we’ll find her floating safe and sound, somewhere out in the bay. I don’t think she could have gone too far dragging that anchor.”
They headed down the channel, taking occasional side excursions around some of the small islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a mast that could be theirs. But none of the boats they found was the right one. The hot sun made rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and pushed back his cowlick, then wiped his perspiring brow. He was beginning to fear that he would never again see his trim new sloop—unless he was to see it lying shattered on one of these rocky islands. Then, with dogged determination, he picked up his oars once more and bent his back to the task of rowing.
Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they had seen an unattended sloop out of the mooring areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and promised to help if they happened to see it, none had any information to offer.
The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry pulled farther and farther away from the mainland, exploring every possible hiding place the bay had to offer.
By noon, Sandy’s spirits were at low ebb, and he was beginning to wonder how he would tell his Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping the unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat and pointed. “Look!” he shouted. “Over there! I think that’s her! And will you look at where she drifted to!”
Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at the small white sloop with the green decks that lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had been welcomed by a gun!
“Of all places to drift to,” he gasped. “It’s a darn good thing she didn’t drift inside his cove, or she might be shot full of holes by now!”
Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all morning, Sandy picked up the oars and sent the dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim sloop.
“From now on,” he said, “sleeping bags and air mattresses or not, we’re sleeping on board until we get a permanent mooring for this boat near home!” Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on board as Jerry tied the dinghy to the stern.
“I’ll go below to get the sails out,” Sandy said, “while you unship the boom and get the rigging ready.”