"Same water, you mean," suggested Joe. "Of course I do. Boats don't sail on the land, do they? Hullo! here is a young squall." "And a very lively one it is. I wish it would blow the fog away," exclaimed Charley. "It's getting chilly," said Harry. "I should like to get ashore and build a good fire.'" "What do you say about going home through the Sound, Harry?" asked Charley. "I say let's do it by all means, if we can." "What do you say, Joe?" "The Sound can't be any wetter than the South Bay, so I'm in favor of trying it," replied Joe. "Then we'll consider it settled that we sail to the end of Shinnecock Bay, and then go to Canoe Place and cross over to Peconic Bay. Slack those peak halyards a little, will you, Tom. If this squall lasts, we shall have to put in a reef." The wind was now blowing so fresh that in almost any other circumstances the young Captain would have reefed the mainsail, but he was in constant expectation of reaching the shore. The long swell which gently rocked the boat was very unlike the short swells of the Great South Bay. "There's something very strange about this," said Charley. "We must have sailed at least ten miles, and the bay is only ten miles long. Why haven't we struck the shore?" "How long ago was the chart made?" inquired Tom. "I've had it--or rather father has had it--over three years," said Harry. "An inlet may have opened into Shinnecock Bay since that chart was made," said Tom. "New inlets do open into these bays in winter storms, for I've read of such things in the newspaper." "Try if you can touch bottom with an oar. I'm pretty sure you can't," said Charley. Tom tried, but could find no bottom. "Then, boys, we'll haul down the mainsail and jib, and let her drift for a while." [Illustration: OUT AT SEA.] The _Ghost_ came up in the wind, and the sails were dropped and furled. "Now," resumed Charley, "I want you to keep cool, and not to let yourselves get frightened. The truth is, boys, that we are out at sea." "But we can't be," cried Harry. "There isn't any inlet." "There must be an inlet," Charley replied, "and we've drifted out through it. This swell is the swell of the Atlantic. It's impossible to have anything like it in a little shallow bay." "What shall we do?" asked the boys, all together. "We can't do anything till the fog lifts, and we find out where we are. The compass is gone, we don't know which way the wind is, and we can't even hear the surf. The only thing to do is to wait for clear weather." While they were talking, the sea had begun to break into white caps, and Charley ordered the mainsail to be set close reefed. "If we don't get some sail on her," he explained, "we shall have the water coming aboard." "But we may be running further away from the land all the time," said Harry.