Tommy sat down suddenly.  “Gracious,” he gasped, “I never thought of that.  Oh, we will have to go back.  You can’t take this boat home alone, Judy.”

Judy’s head went up.  “I am captain of this ship, Tommy Tolliver,” she declared, “and I am going to sail into port and put you ashore.  Then I shall do as I like.”

“Aw—­” said Tommy, appalled at this display of nautical knowledge, “aw—­all right, Captain Judy.”

The wind came as Judy had said it would, filling the little sail until it looked like a white flower, and carrying “The Princess” along at a pace that made Tommy feel weak and faint.

“Isn’t it fine,” cried Judy, leaning forward, and drinking in the strong air with delight.  “Isn’t it glorious, Tommy?”

“Yes,” said Tommy, doubtfully.  He was pale, and presently he lay down in the bottom of the boat.

“Suck a lemon,” suggested Judy, practically, “there are some in that little locker,” and after following her advice, Tommy recovered sufficiently to sit up, and in the lulls of the gale he and Judy shrieked at each other, and sang songs of the sea.

They ate a little lunch, intermittently—­a bite of sandwich while Tommy pulled at the ropes or adjusted the sail, or a wing of chicken as Judy swung the boat with her head to the wind.  It was all very exciting and Judy forgot care and the worried hearts that she had left behind, and Tommy, reckless in a new-found courage, felt that he was a true sailor and a son of the sea.

But as the night wore on, and the wind settled into a steady blow, it took all Judy’s science and Tommy’s strength to keep the little boat in her course.  The waves ran higher and higher, and Judy grew quiet, and her face was pale with fatigue.

Tommy began to have doubts.  A life on the ocean wave wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be, and anyhow, Judy was only a girl!

“How long before we get there,” he shouted amid the tumult.

“We ought to reach the Point in a little while,” said Judy, “but—­but I am not quite sure where we are, Tommy.  I have always kept within sight of land before—­”

There was no land to be seen now.  The moon was hidden by the clouds, and on each side of them black water stretched out to meet black sky, broken only by leaping lengths of white foam.

But they were not fated to reach the Point that night, for the wind changed, and in spite of all efforts to keep on their way, the little boat was blown farther and farther out into the great, wide waters of the bay.

“Is there any danger?” questioned Tommy as the foam boiled up on each side of the boat, drenching both himself and Judy, whose face, white as a pearl, showed through the gloom.

But Judy did not answer at once.  She waited until she could make herself heard in a lull of the wind, and then she admitted, “We shall have to stay out all night, I am afraid.”

“All night,” gasped Tommy.  “Oh, Judy, ain’t it awful.”