“Maybe the upper structure of some sunken ship, John!” Stan interrupted.
“Upper structure or keel, I don’t know, Stan, but—I do know that the last of my coffee soaked my pants!”
John went below to change into something dry and while he was there he quietly inspected the forepeak of the craft where the anchor cable was stored, and the spare sails and lines, and then peered under the cabin floor boards but found no signs of extra water. Evidently the ship had not been damaged by contact with whatever the object had been. In dry attire, John went back on deck and relieved his friend at the wheel.
Stan now went below and studied the charts for some minutes, coming back on deck after a short time and indicating the eastern tip of Porpoise Island. The long low island bore a faint resemblance, when seen from a distance, to the back of a sporting porpoise, hence its name, and the eastern tip was the “snout.”
“Keep clear of the snout there, John, by at least a hundred yards, because of low water and rocks, now that we’re getting in close, and put her on the other tack after we round the point.”
“Righto, Skipper. Blow me down, my hearties, and smack the main brace!”
Both boys peered curiously at the bushes and clusters of cedar trees and the few oaks covering the slopes of the island as the boat sailed slowly, half-drifting, past the snout and they were able to see the seaward or southern side of the island. Black Cove should be about a half mile down that side and the angle of entrance was so sharp that the boys actually sailed past without spotting the opening! It was Stan who first detected their mistake.
“John, we’ve gone past the entrance to Black Cove, I’m sure. It’s getting so dark I can hardly see a thing, anyhow and we’ve sure missed it!”
It was indeed getting dark in spite of the lingering twilight and the Water Witch swung about and back, feeling the strength of a brisk night breeze now springing up. The breeze might last an hour or less and they must make the cove before it died again. Intent, anxious, Stan stood by the mast of the boat, peering sharply ahead as the heeling sloop closed in with the island, risking danger among the scattered rocks, to find the clear, deep entrance to the harbor.
Suddenly Stan cried out and pointed!