o nearly a mile, there was an irregular line
of foaming breakers. An awful thing for a boat like the "Swallow" to run
into.

Perhaps; but ten times worse for a larger craft, for the latter would be
shattered on the shoals where the bit of a yacht would find plenty of
water under her, if she did not at the same time find too much _over_
her.

"Can't we go back through the inlet in the bar?" asked Ford.

"Not with this wind in our teeth, and it's getting worse every minute.
No more will it do to try and keep inside the surf."

"What can we do, then?"

"Take the smoothest places and run 'em. The sea isn't very rough
outside. It's our only chance."

Poor Ford Foster's heart sank within him, but he saw a resolute look on
"Captain Kinzer's" face which gave him a little confidence, and he
turned to look at the surf. The only way for the "Swallow" to penetrate
that dangerous barrier of broken water was to "take it nose on," as Dick
Lee expressed it, and that was clearly what Dab Kinzer intended.

There were places of comparative smoothness, here and there, in the
foaming and plunging line, but they were bad enough, at the best, and
would have been a great deal worse but for that stiff breeze off shore.

Bows foremost, full sail, rising like a cork on the long, strong
billows, which would have rolled her over and over if she had not been
really so skillfully handled,--once or twice pitching dangerously, and
shipping water enough to wet her brave young mariners to the skin, and
call for vigorous baling afterward,--the "Swallow" battled gallantly
with her danger for a few minutes, and then Dab Kinzer shouted:

"Hurrah, boys! We're out at sea!"

"Dat's so," said Dick.

"So it is," remarked Ford, a little gloomily; "but how will we ever get
ashore again?"

"Well," replied Dab, "if it doesn't come on to blow too hard, we'll run
right on down the coast. If the wind lulled, or whopped around a little,
we'd find our way in, easy enough, long before night. We might have a
tough time beating home across the bay. Anyhow, we're safe enough now."

"How about fishing?"

"Guess we wont bother 'em much, but you might try for a blue fish.
Sometimes they're capital fun, right along here."

CHAPTER XI.

There's no telling how many anxious people there may have been in that
region, after tea-time that evening, but of two or three circles we may
be reasonably sure. Good Mrs. Foster could not endure to stay at home,
and her hus