When the sun grew higher it became very warm, so that the rowers were
glad enough to lay aside their jackets. By noon they reckoned that
they had covered six or eight miles. One after another stood up on
the seats to take a look around.
"Nothing in sight yet," said Dick, with a sorry shake of his head.
"We must have been mistaken in that dark spot."
"What will you do now?" asked Grace. "The hot sun is beginning to
make my head ache."
Sam's head also ached, but he said nothing. Nobody knew what to suggest.
"One thing is certain; we can't remain out on the bosom of the ocean,"
said Dick.
"Better continue to pull southward," came from old Jerry. "There are
lots of islands down that way. The map is full of 'em."
"Yes, the map is full of them," answered Dick. "But a quarter of an
inch on the map means a hundred miles or two in reality."
Yet it was decided to row on, trusting to luck to strike some island,
either large or small. It was now fiercely hot, and all hands perspired
freely.
By the end of the afternoon the boys were worn out, and had to give
up rowing. The girls were dozing in the stern, having covered their
heads with a thin shawl, stretched from one gunwale to another. Tom
and Sam were dizzy from the glare of the sun on the water.
"Another day like this will set me crazy," said the youngest Rover.
"I'd give ten dollars for a pair of blue goggles."
Old Jerry had been looking intently to the westward.
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