For a minute Steve hesitated. Then:
"If she can do it, we can," he muttered, and slowly turned the wheel,
his eyes darting to the chart. "No depth shown here," he said. "Two feet
further along. Then four and seven. If we can get to the point of sand
there we're all right."
They watched the _Follow Me_ breathlessly. She was dancing almost in the
breakers now and for a long moment it seemed that she would surely pile
herself on the spit that ran seaward from the end of the island. But she
got by safely and the _Adventurer_ plunged after her. There were
strained faces on the bridge deck then and Ossie was seen to lay a
tentative hand on the cushion of the nearer seat. Steve, with grim
countenance, kept his eyes on the rollers, trying his best to follow in
the wake of the other boat. Here and there white water hinted at shoals
and it was between two of these that the _Follow Me_ had gone. Steve
eased the wheel and slowed the engine a trifle and the _Adventurer_,
rocking in the long swells that were breaking on the beach hardly more
than a stone-throw to port, went on. Steve was in the act of breathing a
long sigh of relief when there came a jar that threw several of the boys
off their balance and brought cries of consternation to their lips.
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