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stepped forward to search out the dinghy. In a moment he saw it top a swell almost dead ahead. There was a long boathook lashed atop the deckhouse. He slid it free and looked down to windward, hoping the breeze would continue strong enough to give them steerage-way. As far as he could see the surface was riffled and dark. He stepped back to the break of the deckhouse and spoke quietly to Rae. “See it?”
    She nodded. “Now and then. When it comes up.”
    “Good. We’ll take it on the starboard side.”
    Five minutes passed. The breeze faltered but came on again before they lost steerageway. It was less than fifty yards away now. Ingram motioned her a little to port and stood ready with the boathook. The dinghy began to slide past along the starboard side, less than ten feet off. He hooked it neatly at the bow, hauled it inward, and got hold of the painter. He led it aft and made it fast with a grin at Rae. “Nice going.”
    It was a run almost downwind now to the other yacht. He started the main and mizzen sheets and studied her through the glasses. She was lying on a westerly heading, abeam to the breeze. “Right just a little,” he said to Rae. “Well come up astern and lay to about a hundred yards off.”
    The gap began to close slowly, and then more slowly as the breeze faltered. It stopped altogether, and the sea became like heaving billows of silk, blinding off to starboard with the glare of the sun. Then, just before Saracen began to yaw on the swell, it came on again. The sails filled. The distance was less than a half-mile now.
    “I don’t like that sluggish way she rolls,” Rae said.
    “She’s got water in her, all right,” Ingram agreed.
    “Are you sure it’s safe to go aboard?”
    “Sure. She won’t capsize, with all that keel under her. And she won’t go under all at once.”
    “But suppose you’re below? You might get trapped.”
    “I won’t go below if she’s that close. I can tell when I get on her.”
    They were still over two hundred yards away when the breeze died again. Saracen drifted forward a few yards and began to wallow as she slewed around. Ingram surveyed the remaining distance with exasperation, and searched the horizon on all sides. “Slick as a bald head,” he said and sheeted the booms in. “This’ll have to do. I’m going aboard.”
    “Why not start the engine?” she asked.
    “He might wake up.”
    “I doubt it.” Then she caught his meaning. “Why? What difference does it make if he does?”
    He hesitated; then he shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you on here alone with him. Unless he’s asleep, I mean.”
    “Why, for heaven’s sake?”
    “I don’t know. It’s stupid, I realize, but there’s just something about him I don’t quite buy. Not till I know more about him.”
    “Well, of all the worriers.”
    He grunted. “You’re probably right. But let him sleep, anyway.” He loosed the dinghy’s painter and hauled the boat up alongside. Before he stepped down into it he took a careful look around the horizon for squalls. It could be highly dangerous if one made up suddenly while Rae was alone, with all sail on her. There was nothing, however, that looked even remotely suspicious. “If you get another whisper of breeze,” he said, “work her on down and come about off the stern. I won’t be long.”
    “Right. You will be careful, won’t you?”
    “Sure.”
    “Wait. Don’t you want to put on that life-jacket?” It was still lying where Warriner had taken it off.
    He grinned. “What for?” Nobody could capsize a dinghy in a sea like this. At the same time, he wondered why Warriner had been wearing it. Timing himself with Saracen’s roll, he stepped lightly down into the dinghy and pushed away from the side.
    It rode like a chip on the oily groundswell, and reflected sunlight glared in his face as he shipped the oars and began pulling toward the other yacht. As he drew nearer, he could see the sails were sloppily furled and