"I can smell wind--and see them 'mare's tails' in the sky over yonder.

They're as fall uv wind as a preacher is uv texts." "Well, we've done our best to warn them," concluded Rob.

"If they are so foolhardy as to keep on, we can't help it." In half an hour more the boys had landed the captain at the little pier he had built on his island, and to which his rowboat was attached, and were ready to start back, good-bys having been said.
"Hark!" exclaimed the captain, as Rob prepared to give the order to "Go ahead." The boys listened, and heard a low, distant moaning sound, something like the deepest rumbling notes of a church organ.
"That's the wind comin'," warned the captain.

"Yer'd better be hurryin' back." With more hasty good-bys, the lads got under way at once.

As they emerged from the lee of the island they could see that seaward the ocean was being rapidly lashed into choppy, white-crested waves by the advancing storm, and that the wind was freshening into a really stiff breeze.
"Those fellows must be wishing they took our advice now if they are fools enough to have kept out," said Merritt, as he slowed down the engine so as to permit the Flying Fish to ride the rising seas more easily.
"Yes, I guess they're doing some tall thinking," agreed Tubby, as a wave caught the little Flying Fish "quartering" on her port bow, and sent a white smother of spray swirling back over her occupants.
"That's the time we got it," laughed Rob, from the wheel, peering straight ahead.