're
safe in the harbor, and we may soon sight the whale. Keep a good
lookout!"

For some time they sailed on, each one scanning the expanse of the bay,
which was now dotted here and there with whitecaps. The boat was
heeling over almost too much for comfort.

"Hadn't we better turn back?" asked Frank, after a period of silence,
broken only by the swish of the water.

"Of course not," declared the more daring Andy. "It was about here
that my boat was stove in. The whale may be around these diggings
looking for us."

"Likely--not!" exclaimed Frank decidedly.

There came a fiercer gust of wind, and it fairly howled through the
rigging. The waters whitened with spray and foam.

"It's a squall!" yelled Frank. "Better turn back."

"We can't now," shouted Andy at the top of his voice, to make himself
heard above the howling of the wind. "We'd better keep on to
Seabright. We can lay over there until this blows by. See anything of
the whale?"

"No. It's useless to look for him. I'm going to take a reef in the
sail."

"That's right. I guess you'd better shorten some of our canvas. I'll
hold her as steady as I can while you're doing it. Or shall I lash the
helm and help you?"

"No, you stay there. I can manage it."

The storm increased in sudden fury, and it was no easy task to shorten
sail with the pressure of the wind on it. But Frank Racer had
considerable skill in handling boats, and with his brother at the helm,
to ease off when he gave the word, he managed to cast off the throat
and peak lines, lower the gaff and sail, and then take a double reef in
the canvas.

Even under the smaller spread the _Gull_ shot along over the
foam-crested waves like some speeding motor boat. Andy was so taken up
with watching his brother, and in aiding him as much as he could by
shifting the helm as was needful, that he did not look ahead for
several minutes. He was recalled to this necessary duty by a sudden,
frightened cry from Frank.

"The rocks! Look out for the rocks!" shouted the older lad. "We'll be
on 'em in a second! Port your helm! Port!"

Andy desperately threw over the tiller, and with fear-blanched face he
looked to where his brother pointed. Amid a smother of white foam,
almost dead ahead and scarcely two cable lengths away there showed the
black and jagged points of rocks, known locally as the "Shark's Teeth."
The _Gull_ was headed straight for them.

Anxiously, and with strained eyes,