Marston pulled the yard clear, and dropping down the channel through the sands, they stole out to sea. A light east wind blew behind them, the water sparkled as the moon rose, and shadowy woods and dark hills opened out and faded on their port side. The night was warm, the sea ran in long undulations, wrinkled by the breeze. In the distance one heard surf break upon the reefs, and now and then a steamer with throbbing engines went by. Wyndham lounged at the tiller, Marston and Mabel sat under the booby hatch and talked quietly, while Flora, in the cockpit sang a song. _Red Rose_, lurching gently with all sail set, headed for the west. "Harry's plan is good," Flora remarked when she finished her song. "There are two grand things, the sea and the mountains; but, on a night like this, I like the sea best." "Then you ought to be happy and I hope you are," rejoined Mabel. "The trouble about dividing your affection between two objects is, when you get one you feel you want the other." "That is so now and then," Flora agreed. "When you can't have both, you are forced to choose and choosing's generally hard." "You let Harry choose for you. Perhaps it's a good plan, but I don't know if I'll use it much with Bob." Flora laughed and thought Mabel's remark was justified. It looked as if Harry had meant to leave the strait, although he had said nothing about this until the passenger boat arrived. Anyhow, it did not matter. She was glad to indulge him and it was a splendid night for a sail. Flora was happy and began to sing again. The wind freshened as they crossed a rock-fringed bay where a famous emigrant ship went down. Sparkling ripples flecked the swell, which presently began to roll in short angry waves. The rigging hummed, a foaming wake ran astern, and a white ridge stood up about _Red Rose_'s bows. After a time, Marston and the paid hand set a smaller jib and hauled down the topsail, and when they had finished Bob stood on deck looking about. The sea ahead was white and _Red Rose_ rolled hard when the rising combers picked her up. Astern, the dinghy sheered about and lifted half her length out of the water when she felt the strain on the rope. Once or twice she surged forward on a wave, as if she were going to leap on board. Marston had seen enough and jumped into the cockpit. "It's freshening up," he said. "The tide will be running strong round Carmel when we get there and the sea breaks awkwardly in the race. If you're going on, we'll heave down a reef and pull the dinghy on deck." Wyndham looked at his watch. "I don't know if I'm going on or not. The flood's running now and there are two nasty races before we reach Carmel. Suppose we make for Porth Gwynedd? I don't see much use in getting wet." "The Porth's an awkward harbor to enter in the dark," Marston remarked thoughtfully. "I know the way," said Wyndham. "Mrs. Evans will give the girls a room; we have got her up late at night before. Ask them what they think?"