The boys had been in such a hurry to get away from Matinicus that they had not taken time for any dinner; so both had keen appetites. Jim made a hearty lunch on the crisp crackers. Percy's mouth watered as he swung to and fro at the oars, facing his companion. Ten weeks ago he would have disdained such plain fare; but now he could eat it with a relish. His gristle was hardening into bone. Four or five of the brittle disks satisfied Jim's hunger. "Your turn now, Perce! Let me take her again!" "Hadn't I better row a little longer?" "No! I feel good for five miles. Those crackers put the strength into a man." Percy attacked the bag with an appetite equal to Jim's. Malcolm's Ledges were near, breaking white half-way from the Ball to Seal Island. To Percy's ears the roar of the surf sounded louder. "Sea's making up a bit, isn't it, Jim?" "Yes; but I don't think it'll amount to anything for a long time yet." Down swept a squall from the north, roughening and darkening the water. The dory careened a trifle as it smote her side. "Well, Perce, we're more than a third of the way home. There's Brimstone Point, eight miles ahead. We may see a little rough water before we get there. Lucky you're not seasick nowadays!" The squall passed, but left a steady breeze blowing in its wake. The sky was gray, the sea leaden. The horizon all around seemed to be contracting, and the familiar islands were losing their height. They ran to leeward of the breaker on Gully Ledge, and passed into smooth water under the protecting barrier of Seal Island. Pliny Ferguson's shack was in plain 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.