Swept Out to Sea; Or, Clint Webb Among the Whalers

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH MY COUSIN AND I HAVE A SERIOUS FALLING OUT

The wind had died to just a breath, barely filling the canvas of the Wavecrest. We were slowly making the mouth of the inlet at Bolderhead after a day's fishing. Occasionally as the fitful breeze swooped down the sloop made a pretty little run, then she'd sulk, with the sail flapping, till another puff cam...