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"But where do you say we are?" Neil insisted.
Charley pondered a moment, and then answered, "The tide has edged us over a bit out of our course, but if the fog lifts right now, as it is going to lift, you'll find we're not more than a thousand miles off McNear's Landing."
"You might be a little more definite by a few miles, anyway," Neil grumbled, showing by his tone that he disagreed.
"All right, then," Charley said, conclusively, "not less than a quarter of a mile, not more than a half."
The wind freshened with a couple of little puffs, and the fog thinned perceptibly.
"McNear's is right off there," Charley said, pointing directly into the fog on our weather beam.
The three of us were peering intently in
