"Anyhow, it isn't any nearer." Another minute or two passed, with all hands listening intently.

Then Phil sounded another warning.

"Hold up, Steve! I may be crazy, but I'll swear there's surf dead ahead again!" Steve motioned to Joe and, yielding the wheel after throwing out the clutch again, swung around a stanchion and crept cautiously along the roof of the main cabin and galley until he reached Phil's side.

Then, dropping to his knees and steadying himself by the flag-pole, he listened.

Quite plainly and, as it seemed, from alarmingly nearby, came the gentle _swish-swash_ of tiny waves breaking on a beach.