"A little more, and they would have plunked us," remarked Ted Pollock, with a great sigh of relief. "Going ashore, now, Nat?"
"Not before the boat reaches it," returned Wingate, who, judging from his actions, seemed to have profited but little by the recent experience. "Let her out a bit, Hacky. Legs feel weak, Somers? I'll bet they do—never saw such a scared crowd in my life."
The leader of the Nimrods glanced quickly at a map, replaced it in his pocket, then gave the wheel a turn.
"Going further out?" asked Bob, in surprise.
"Who said I was going further out?"
"You changed your course just then."
Nat laughed. "I'm afraid you're beginning to dream," he said.
"We are an awful way out," ventured Ted; "and my dad says the water in the middle of this bay is five hundred feet deep."
"Fog getting thicker and thicker," observed John Hackett. "Keep your eyes open, fellows, for any more boats."
There was no need of this admonition, but time slipped away, without bringing any further incident. Nat Wingate remained at the wheel, keeping the "Nimrod" on a perfectly straight course, at the same time talking and laughing in his liveliest fashion.