"Oh, that will be fine!" cried Sammy, and the others agreed with him.
So it was arranged, and a little later the Skip went under the bridge, and pointed her bow toward the broader and deeper waters that led to the inlet.
It was about three miles to where the waters of the ocean and Cove met, and the channel was so twisting, on account of the shifting sands, that Silas did not like to let the boys steer. So he held the wheel himself.
From time to time, as the boat went on Silas would raise the hatch cover, and look at the throbbing motor, to see that it was running all right. Once in a while he would oil it. The boys looked on with interest when he did this, and asked many questions.
Silas explained how he had to spin the flywheel around to start the motor, and how he turned on the spark and gasolene. Sometimes, he said, the motor would start when the electric switch was closed, without the flywheel being turned by hand.
Now and then, as the Skip went along, Silas would look up at the sky, and shake his head as though in doubt.
"What's the matter?" asked Sammy, after a bit.
"I don't like the looks of the weather," was the answer. "It looks to me as though we were in for a heavy thunderstorm."
"They're not dangerous; are they?" asked Bob.
"Oh, well, not specially so. But down here, near the inlet, the wind sometimes blows pretty strong, and when the tide's running out, as it is now, there's a powerful current. I almost wish I hadn't brought you boys along."
"Oh, we're not afraid," said Frank with confidence. "The Skip is a good boat; isn't she?"
"There's none better afloat, for her size," said Silas proudly. "I've ridden out many a gale in her down in the
