"That's a good way down the New Jersey coast," said Sergeant Brown. "Can this boat stand such a sail?"
"Can she?" snorted Harris. "She's strong enough to go to Europe in, if you want to make the trip."
"Thank you; when I go to Europe I'll go in a steamer," laughed the police officer. "I don't think you'd do much in a heavy blow."
"The Searchlight would hold her own," answered the old sailor confidently.
The breeze was increasing, and they rounded the Narrows at a lively rate. The swell from the ocean now struck them, and the yacht occasionally dipped her nose a little deeper into it than was expected.
"Here, I don't want to get wet!" cried Carter. "I'm no sailor, you know."
"You won't get much," laughed Harris. "This roll is just enough to be pleasant."
"Perhaps—to some people," came from the policeman, who had never cared for the rolling deep and who was beginning to feel a trifle seasick. Fortunately for him, however, the sickness proved mild and of short duration.
The Flyaway was now in plain sight, but too far off to be spoken. She had every sail set to its fullest, and for the time being it seemed im-
