ss!" cautioned Captain Jeb, as they neared a white line of
breakers, and he stood up firm and strong at the helm. "Steady, all of you
younkers; for we're crossing the bar. Many a good ship has left her bones
on this same reef. Easy, 'Sary Ann'! It's no place for fooling round
here."

And, as if to emphasize his words, the black shadows of a wrecked ship
rose gaunt and grim before them.

"Struck the reef two months ago," explained the Captain, with eye and hand
still steady on his helm. "Can't get her off. Captain fool enough to try
Beach Cliff Harbor without a native pilot! Why, thar ain't no books nor
charts can tell you nothing 'bout navigating round these here islands: you
have to larn it yourself. It's the deceivingest stretch along the whole
Atlantic coast. Thar's times when this here bar, that is biling deep with
water now, is bare enough for one of you chaps to walk across without
wetting your knees. Easy now, 'Sary Ann'! Ketch hold of that rope,
younker, and steady the sail a bit. So thar, we're over the shoals. Now
clip it, my lass" (and the old man swung the sail free),--"clip it fast as
you like for Killykinick."

And, almost as if she could hear the "Sary Ann" leaped forward with the
bulging sail, and was off at the word; while Captain Jeb, the harbor reef
safely passed, leaned back in his boat and pointed out to his young
passengers (for even the elegant Dud was roused into eager curiosity) the
various things of interest on their way: the light ship, the lighthouses,
the fishing fleet stretching dim and hazy on the far horizon, the great
ocean liner only a faint shadow trailing a cloud of smoke in the blue
distance.

"Them big fellows give us the go by now, though time was when they used to
come from far and near; all kinds--Spanish, Portugee, East Indian. Them
was the whaling days, when Beach Cliff was one of the greatest places on
the coast. She stands out so far she hed the first bite at things. All the
sailing ships made for snug harbor here. But, betwixt the steamboats and
the railroads gobbling up everything, and the earth itself taking to
spouting oil, things are pretty dead and gone here now."

"But lots of fine folks come in the summer time," said Dud.

"And there's a church!" exclaimed Brother Bart, who had caught a passing
glimpse of a cross-crowned spire. "Thank God we'll not be beyond the light
and truth entirely! You're to take us to Mass every Sunday, my good man;
and we are to give you