He turned his boat shoreward.

Creeping out from the shadow of the mountains was the white sand of the beach three or four miles away.

A quarter of an hour later a spiral of smoke detached itself from the rocks and timber that came down close to the sea.
"That's McCormick's," he said.
Alan made no answer.

Through Olaf's binoculars he picked out the Scotchman's cabin.

It was Sandy McCormick, Olaf had assured him, who knew every eddy and drift in fifty miles of coast, and with his eyes shut could find Mary Standish if she came ashore.