n view, and its owner came out and swung his
hand to them. Spurling remembered Captain Higgins's advice, and
hesitated.

"What do you say, Perce? I'll put it up to you. Shall we keep on or stop
here with Pliny? Seems to me there isn't the least doubt about our
reaching the island before dark; but I don't want to make you run any
needless risk. So I'll do as you say. Pliny'll be glad to make us
comfortable, and we can slip across after the gale is over."

Percy scanned the steep, desolate cliffs a half-mile to the north.

"What would you do if you were alone, Jim?"

"Make for Tarpaulin as fast as oars would take me."

"Then I say keep on!"

"Keep on it is, then," assented Spurling.

Shielded from the wind by the high shore, the dory sped on east by
south. The island was over a mile long. When they emerged from the
protection of the ledges on its eastern end they could see that the
breeze had increased in force. Up to windward in the direction of Isle
au Haut Bay occasional white-caps were breaking.

Spurling stopped rowing and took a long look around. Then he pulled off
his sweater, settled himself firmly on the thwart, and braced his heels
against the timber nailed across the bottom of the dory. His oar-blades
caught the water with a long, steady stroke.

"We'll head north of the island," he said to Percy, after a few minutes
of vigorous rowing. "The flood'll be running for the next three hours,
and that'd naturally set us toward the north; but before we get to
Tarpaulin the wind'll be blowing us the other way. We've got to allow
for both."

Fifteen minutes went by, thirty, a full hour. Little by little Seal
Island sank behind them and the familiar outlines of Tarpaulin loomed
clearer and higher. The increasing breeze, blowing against the ocean
current, kicked up a lively chop, on which the dory danced skittishly.
It took all Spurling's strength and skill to drive her onward.

At four o'clock they still had between four and five miles to go. The
sea was alive with white horses. As the boat fell into the trough Percy
momentarily lost sight of the island. He now recognized Spurling's
wisdom in heading so far north of their goal. But for that they would
inevitably have been blown off their course.

Jim was buckling to his task like a Trojan. Bare-headed, shirt open at
the neck, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, he swayed to and fro, a
tireless, human machine. His blades entered the rough sea cleanly and
ca