“Joe shouted. “We’re going to hit!” Grimly Frank swung the wheel hard right, and the Sleuth missed the deadly rock by inches. The yacht curved away at the last minute. Now it approached the Sleuth at slackened speed. The craft was handsomely trimmed in brass and about forty feet in length. The boys saw the name of the ship in red letters: Northerly. “Orrin North’s yacht!” Joe shouted. A man in blue uniform stepped out on the bridge as the craft drew parallel with the Sleuth. Frank cupped his han...ds. “What were you trying to do—run us into the rocks?” “No, I was trying to warn you about them.” “Warn us!” Frank yelled angrily. “Yes. Sorry if I shook you up. You ought to keep away from that old wreck. This isn’t a safe place to go boating.” “With you around it isn’t!” Chet piped up. There was no response from the Northerly. Instead, it swept around in a wide circle and plowed out of the cove southward. Frank revved up the engine and steered the Sleuth into the open sea.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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