ter clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the
skipper.

"Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'. However, they
cleared it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin' out
of the scuppers and set 'em to work. Then Nat suggests gettin' the spare
compass and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any. Compasses cost money
and money's made to keep, so Zach thinks.

"So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas blowin'
hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. Zach he wanted
to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. Nobody paid much
attention to him.

"'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman
aboard.

"'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. 'Guess
we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale holds.'

"So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew
they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if their
reck'nin' was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five fathom. No
flats about that.

"Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks 'Bije.

"'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' this
craft. I'm only passenger.'

"'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do
think?'

"'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly 'twill
fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to lay out here
all day. Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.'

"'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been acrost
the bar by this time.'

"'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far inshore,
we would have made the bar--the Bayport bar--if not the Trumet one. And
if we're off the course and too far out, we'd ought to have deeper water
than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course I'm not sure, but--What's that,
lands-man?'

"'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That showed
they was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the world like a
dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares.

"'I can smell home,' he says.

"Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant two.
They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it.

"'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're plumb over
to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.'

"'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever 'tis, we
can't an