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 husband and Annie were very willing to go over to the Kinzers' with her, and listen to the encouraging talk of Dabney's stout-hearted and sensible mother. "O, Mrs. Kinzer, do you think they are in any danger?" "I hope not. I don't see why they need be, unless they try to return across the bay against this wind." "But don't you think they'll try? Do you mean they wont be home to-night?" exclaimed Mr. Foster, himself. "I sincerely hope not," said the widow, calmly. "I should hardly feel like trusting Dabney out in the boat again if he should do so foolish a thing." "But where can he stay?"