So the two oarsmen rowed easily onward, without bending their backs enough to tire themselves, and frequently resting altogether and letting the boat drift. Joe grew restless after a time, and threw himself down on his back on the bottom of the boat, and began to sing. This was more than Harry could stand, for Joe's singing reminded every one who heard it, of the singing of a cat on the back fence. Harry tried to poke him gently with an oar, but unluckily he hit the compass, knocked it over, and broke it.
"Now we're in a nice fix," exclaimed Charley. "We won't find the light-house to-night, and the best thing we can do is to try to find the shore."
"Here's a little cat's-paw," said Tom. "Sha'n't we get the sail up?"
"I suppose we might as well. The wind is probably from the southwest, for that is the way it was blowing this morning."
The sails were set, and as the breeze increased, the Ghost began to skim over the water.
"What are we going to do when we reach the east end of Shinnecock Bay?" asked Charley, after a while.
"Why, I suppose," Harry replied, "we'll have to turn round and sail back again."
"Why not get over into Peconic Bay, and come home through the Sound? According to the chart, the two bays are only a mile apart at Canoe Place, and there is a pond half a mile wide lying just in the middle of the neck of land that separates them, so we should only have to make two carries of a quarter of a mile each."
"But how do we know that there isn't a big hill, or something of that kind, in the way?" asked Harry.
"The reason why it is called Canoe Place must be that the Indians used to carry their canoes across from one bay to the other. Now if canoes can be carried across, the road can't be very hilly. The chances are that we should find nothing worse than a level meadow, and if we could get a team of horses, I believe we could get the Ghost into Peconic Bay."