“Can you see anything that looks like supplies for the Germans?” she asked.
“Not at this distance.”
He handed her the glasses and she watched until Beeson went stomping up to the house in his knee boots.
Great masses of purple clouds boiled in the western sky, while the tall marsh grass lay almost level under the rushing wind.
“We’d better beat it for home!” exclaimed Kitty. “Looks to me as if this is turning to a hurricane.” On the Gulf coast she had often seen storms come up like this in a very short time.
“There was a hurricane reported south of here—guess we’re getting an edge of the gale,” said Brad.
They debated whether to return to the inlet with which they were familiar, but decided the safest course would be to follow the marshy creek, even thought it might take them longer to get home. Brad still had the little map which he had sketched in his billfold. They studied that, trying to figure out the most direct route back to Palmetto Island.
“This creek swings round mighty close to Mangrove Island,” Kitty said dubiously.
“That’s better than going too close to Terrapin Island.”
Acting upon their decision they picked up their oars again. They were now moving against the force of the rising tide and found progress slow. They made several elbow turns and eventually found themselves close enough to Mangrove Island to make a landing, if they had so desired.