"Southeast, one-fourth south," he muttered, looking from the chart to compass.

"Watch for a black spar buoy off the lighthouse.

If they took the _Follow Me_ into Essex Bay, though, we're running right away from her." To port, the sand dunes shone dazzlingly in the sunlight and a long stretch of snow-white beach kept pace with them as they made for the entrance to Plum Island Sound.

Several boats, sailing and power craft, had been sighted, but nothing that looked in the least like the _Follow Me_.

The sun climbed into a hazy blue sky and the day grew hot in spite of the light westerly breeze.