the ripples at a really creditable pace.

As the shadows thickened Brice half-arose in his seat to get a
better glimpse of a little motorboat which had just sprung
into view from around the mangrove-covered headland that cut
off the view of Standish's mainland dock. The boat apparently
had put off from that pier. and was making rapid speed out
into the bay almost directly toward him. He could descry a
figure sitting in the steersman's seat. But by that ebbing
light. he could discern only its blurred outline.

Before Gavin could resume his seat he was flung forward upon
his face in the bottom of his scow. The jar of the tumble
knocked him breathless. And as he scrambled up on hands and
knees he saw what had happened.

Foolish is the boatman who runs at full speed in some of
the southwestern reaches of Biscayne Bay--especially at dusk
--without up-to-date chart or a perfect knowledge of the bay's
tricky soundings. For the coral worm is tireless, and the making
of new reefs is without end.

The fast-driven launch had run, bow-on, into a tooth of coral
barely ten inches under the surface of the smooth water. And,
what with her impetus and the half-rotted condition of her
hull, she struck with such force as to rip a hole in her
forward quarter, wide enough to stick a derby hat through.

In rushed the water, filling her in an incredibly short time.
Settling by the head under the weight of this inpouring flood