Dick shook his head. “Hardly. She has had a pretty steady breeze all night.”
“But it isn't very strong.”
“It doesn't need to be. There is nothing she likes better than running before just such a breeze. And when the sun is well up, it will blow harder.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“This here is sort of an old tub, too.”
Dick sniffed. “You have to watch the bubbles to see which way she's going.”
Beveridge studied the chart. “See here,” he said, “where's the Canadian hangout?” Dick laid his finger on the indentation that represented Burnt Cove.
“Beyond the—what's this—Duck Island?”
“Just beyond the Duck Islands.”