The more he thought the matter over, the more he was convinced that he had not been rash in undertaking to navigate the brig. Had the wind continued fair, the boys could almost certainly have brought her near enough to Sandy Hook to meet a steam-tug. Could they have succeeded in this, they would have made a large sum of money, perhaps as much as eight or ten thousand dollars, and Charley himself would have gained a great deal of credit in the eyes of his naval superiors. The brig, water-logged as she was, seemed to be about as safe as the leaky Ghost, and there was much more chance that the brig would be seen by some passing vessel, and her crew taken off, than there was that so small a boat as the Ghost would meet with help. Unfortunately the change in the wind had made it apparently impossible for the boys to bring the brig into port; but Charley felt sure that in the course of the next day they would be taken off in case they wanted to abandon her. So finding that his conscience acquitted him of having rashly led his companions into danger, he felt peaceful and happy, and steered the brig as cheerfully as if he were steering the Ghost in the Great South Bay.
[to be continued.]
[HOW FAR CAN YOU SWIM?]
BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.
"Look here, Sime, old Purdy might have told us he'd taken away his oars."
"Well, yes; but there was a kind of a grin on his face when he told us we might have it. Not another loose boat!"
It was a solemn fact. Every skiff along the beach but "old Purdy's" was fastened by chain and padlock and stake, to express the objections of its owner against its use by stray boys.
"No fun going in for a swim in this shallow water. Only a wading place."
"Barry, there's a board. That'll do for us. We can paddle her out far enough."