PURSUIT AND CAPTURE
“I don’t believe we can catch them,” Toby muttered, his eyes on the
tiny dark spot half a mile away. “And if we do we’ll probably get
filled with bullets.”
“Who do you suppose they are?” asked Arnold, excitedly. Toby shook his
head.
“I don’t know, but that launch of theirs can certainly go. What can the
_Frolic_ do at her best, Arn?”
“Twelve, or a little better. How fast are they going?”
“Can’t tell. Not more than that, I guess. She’s smaller than this, and
sits pretty low. Built for speed, I’d say. I wonder if they really
swiped anything.”
“They must have tried to, anyway. Where’s that oil can?” Arnold found
it and doused the engine liberally. Not being able to see very well,
he took no chances, and oiled everything at hand and turned down the
grease-cups.
“She’s changed her mind,” exclaimed Toby, “and is going down around the
Head. How much gas have you got?”
“The tank’s almost three-quarters full.”
“How far will that take us?”
“’Most a hundred miles, I guess. She eats it pretty fast at this pace,
but seven gallons――――”
“Well, we’re not going any hundred miles,” responded Toby, “and I don’t
believe those fellows mean to, either. They’ll either make for the
canal and get out into Shinnecock Bay, or they’ll run straight along
toward Shelter Island.”
“Are we gaining any?” asked Arnold, anxiously.
“I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell. I guess they’re not going to try
the canal. If they were they’d be turning by now. Maybe they think they
can shake us off.”
“Then they’ll have to go some,” said Arnold. “Where is she?”
“Dead ahead. See that black spot?”
For a moment Arnold failed to detect the fleeing launch, and when he
did he uttered a grunt of disappointment. “We’re certainly not gaining,
Toby. She looks further away than she did.”
“Yes, but she’s stern-to. I don’t think we’ve lost any.” They were well
past the Head now, and Nobbs Island Light was falling away to port.
“What I’m wondering,” continued Toby, “is what we’re to do if we should
catch her!”
Arnold had no answer ready, and Toby went on: “There’s probably at
least a couple of men in that launch, and they’ve got pistols――――”
“How do you know?” demanded Arnold.
“We heard them.”
“I don’t think so. The shots we heard were aimed away from the
houseboat, Toby. If they hadn’t been we wouldn’t have seen the flashes.
I guess it was the folks on the houseboat who did the firing.”
“That’s so. Still, it’s mighty likely that there’s a pistol on that
launch, just the same, even if they didn’t use it. And we haven’t any;
and wouldn’t know what to do with it if we had. So what are we to do
when we catch them?”
“They won’t know who we are or how many there are of us,” replied
Arnold. “And they won’t know that we haven’t plenty of revolvers,
either. We’ll bluff them!”
Toby chuckled. “I’d rather have something to back up my bluff, I guess.
I’m game if you are, though, Arn. Besides, I dare say we needn’t
trouble about what’s to happen when we get them, for I don’t believe
we’re going to.”
“Have they gained any?”
“No,” replied the other decisively. “They may not be any closer, but
I’m certain they haven’t gained on us. There are the lights from
Shinnecock over there. We’ve done about six miles since we left the
landing.”
The fleeing launch was headed straight for the passage between the
southerly point of Robins Island and Cow Neck, and was now about
half-way between Spanish Head and the mile-wide passage. The lights
of Shinnecock lay three miles off to the southeast. The throb of the
scurrying _Frolic_ alone broke the silence of the moonlit night for
several minutes, and then Toby, his gaze fixed on the launch ahead,
uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.
“I’m not sure, Arn,” he said, “but I think we’re closing up a little.
Doesn’t she look nearer than she did?”
Arnold agreed and once more seized his oil can. A cruising launch sped
past them a quarter-mile to the north, her port light glowing wanly
in the moonlight. Toby’s eyes scarcely left the dark spot ahead and
presently he said, with conviction: “We’re overhauling her fast now,
Arn! You’d better get that bluff in working order, I guess.”
“I――I’ll get the megaphone ready,” muttered Arnold. “Then we can talk
to them from a safe distance.”
“The safer the better,” agreed Toby. “I wouldn’t mind if we could talk
to them by wireless. What does it feel like to get a bullet in you,
Arn?”
“Don’t be a chump,” begged Arnold. “Just keep your head down and they
can’t hit you.”
“I’m going to,” answered the other dryly. “I’m thinking about putting
it in the gasoline tank. Hello!”
The launch ahead lengthened slightly in the uncertain light.
“She’s making in toward North Sea Harbor,” muttered Toby. “Now what’s
the idea, I wonder. She can’t belong there. Maybe she’s just bluffing,
though. No, she isn’t! She’s headed right in! And we’ve gained like
anything, Arn! She sees that, I guess, and is going to quit――or make a
fight for it! Call all hands, Arn, to man the guns!”
[Illustration: “We’ve gained like anything, Arn!”]
Robins Island was off the _Frolic’s_ port bow now, but instead of
holding her course in the middle of the channel, the other launch had
edged in toward the shore and was presently running straight along it,
as though bent on dodging through the narrow harbor entrance a mile
or so beyond the point. There was no longer any doubt about it:
the _Frolic_ was gaining on the enemy hand over hand. Her engine was
working like a charm, with never a skip, and for the past forty-five
minutes had churned the water at better than a twelve-mile clip.
Arnold, the megaphone in one hand and the oil can in the other, watched
breathlessly. There were no shadows here to hide the launch ahead and
the two boys exulted as the distance lessened between pursued and
pursuer.
“Now, if she’s making for the harbor she’ll have to turn,” muttered
Toby, straining his gaze. “There she goes!” There was a doubtful moment
and then: “She’s headed out again. She missed it, Arn! See, there it
is over there. I’ll bet those fellows don’t know this shore at all.
Now, she’ll have to keep on, for there’s nothing beyond except a cove
until we get to Noyack! And we’ll get them inside of ten minutes! Do
you know what I think? I think they’re short of gas, Arn. You know they
started out as if they meant to cut straight across to Johnstown or
Franklinville or some place over there. That would have been only two
or three miles. Instead we’ve chased them a good ten miles, and they’re
getting short of gas. There! She’s hitting it up a bit again! Go it,
Sal! But we’ll get you long before you reach Jessup’s Neck. Only――only
when we do what are we going to do with you?”
“I wish my father was here,” murmured Arnold, “with his revolver!”
“So do I! You don’t think we’d better turn around and beat it back
before they get to popping at us, do you?”
Arnold hesitated. It seemed very much as though he wanted to say “Yes,”
but he didn’t. Instead, he took a good deep breath and answered: “I’d
rather see it through, Toby, if you aren’t scared.”
Toby laughed shortly. “Oh, I’m scared, all right, but I’m with you,
Arn. It would be a shame to come all this way and use up all that gas
and then turn tail. No, we’ll try that bluff of yours, Arn. If we have
to run we can do it. She’s slowing down again, isn’t she?”
She was, very perceptibly. More than that, she had turned her nose
straight for the shore!
“But there’s no water there!” exclaimed Toby.
“They’re going to run her aground and escape!” cried Arnold.
“Perhaps; but I guess we’ll slow down a little. I don’t want to get too
near.”
Arnold throttled the _Frolic_ down to half-speed. The other launch
worked cautiously in toward the shore and floated quietly in the
moonlight. It was easy enough now to make her out and to count her
occupants.
“Three of them,” whispered Toby, as the _Frolic_ drew nearer and
nearer. “Get your megaphone, Arn, and hail them. Keep down, though.
Slide her into neutral and be ready to start up again if they try to
plug us.”
Some three hundred feet of water separated the two launches as Arnold
threw the clutch out. The _Frolic_ slid slowly on to pass well astern
of the other craft and Arnold raised the megaphone to his lips.
“Launch, ahoy!” he shouted in his deepest tones. There was silence for
an instant, and then the hail was answered:
“Hello! What do you want?” floated across.
“We want the stuff you stole from the houseboat. Hand it over and we’ll
let you go. If you don’t, we’ll begin to fire!”
Another silence, longer this time, and then the voice again:
“Who are you, anyway?”
“Never mind,” answered Arnold sternly. “There are six of us here and
we’ve got you all covered.”
“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was another voice this
time, a deeper one. “You start shooting and you’ll get the worst of it,
pardner! We never saw no houseboat.”
“Pick out your men, fellows,” said Arnold in a loud aside, “and aim at
their bodies.” Then, addressing the launch again: “We’ll give you two
minutes to get out of that boat and beat it. If you’re not on shore by
that time we’ll fire on you. And any one of you taking anything ashore
will get a bullet. Now, make up your minds, quick!”
Toby left the wheel and scuttled astern, keeping out of sight. Once
there he raised himself so that his head and shoulders showed above the
gunwale. Then he hurried back to the bow and repeated the operation. He
couldn’t be five men, he decided, but he could manage to look like two
at least. Perhaps that ruse decided the matter, for, after a moment or
two, during which the low voices of the three occupants of the other
launch muttered and growled, the first speaker spoke again.
“I guess you’ve got us,” he said quite cheerfully, “but you wouldn’t
have caught us in a thousand years if we hadn’t run out of gas.” Toby’s
sigh of relief mingled with Arnold’s. “Can we run this tub on the beach
so’s we can get off?”
Arnold hesitated and Toby prompted with a whispered “No.”
“No, you can leave the launch where she is and hustle out of her.”
“We can’t swim!” called a third voice.
“Then drown,” answered Arnold gruffly. “Your time’s up. What’s it going
to be?”
The answer from the launch was profane but decisive. In substance it
stated that they were going to get out and that they earnestly hoped
the occupants of the white launch would meet with a vast amount of
misfortune!
“They’re taking some of the plunder with them,” whispered Toby,
watching across the gunwale. “Tell them to drop it, Arn!”
“You heard what I said about taking stuff with you,” threatened Arnold,
his voice doubtless sounding quite terrifying through the megaphone.
“Drop it quick or we’ll nab the lot of you!”
Mutters and some hesitation then, followed by a splash as one of the
men dropped into the water. A second lowered himself very cautiously
over the stern, which had swung around nearest to the shore, and the
third, pausing long enough to voice his disapproval of the whole
proceeding and of the pursuers especially, took a flying leap and
cut through the water with long, businesslike strokes, passing his
companions half-way to the beach and tossing them a grim jest as he
left them astern.
“It worked!” exulted Arnold, jubilantly, to Toby.
“Great! But give them time to get away from shore. That big fellow had
something in his mouth, I think; the one who dropped over so mighty
carefully. Bring her around, Arn, and be ready to take her in.”
Arnold threw in the clutch, advanced the throttle and the _Frolic_
swung slowly about in a wide circle, while Toby, his hands on the wheel
but his eyes on the figures nearing the shore, watched cautiously.
Along the steep and narrow beach ran a fringe of bushes and stunted
trees, and when the three men were free of the water they drew together
on the beach, seemed to confer for a moment, and then, shouting
something unintelligible but doubtless far from complimentary, made
their way leisurely out of sight between the bushes.
“All right, now?” asked Arnold eagerly.
“Wait,” advised Toby. “I’m certain one of them has a pistol, and for
all we know may be drawing a bead on us from those bushes. I tell you
what, Arn. Start her up and we’ll try to keep their launch between us
and them as we go in. But wait another minute.”
“Shall we search the launch here or take her further out?” asked Arnold.
“Get a line to her and tow her back with us, of course,” was the reply.
“She’s contraband of war, or whatever you call it. I wouldn’t be
surprised if they’d stolen her somewhere, anyway. Have you got a spare
rope handy?”
“No, but we can use our painter.”
“All right. She may have one; she probably has. If not, we’ll use the
_Frolic’s_. Do you suppose they’ve gone?”
“Of course! They were frightened to death.” Arnold laughed softly. “I
must have sounded pretty fierce!”
“You did! You sounded as if you were about six feet tall and weighed
200 pounds! Well, I suppose we might as well take a chance. If they’re
still there, they’ll probably stay, and there’s no use trying to tire
them out. All right. Start her easy. Here we go. Keep out of sight
until we get to the launch, and then I’ll grab her.”
“Better let me,” said Arnold. “You keep the wheel.”
“All right, then; you grab her, and I’ll look for her painter.”
The _Frolic_ chugged slowly in toward the abandoned launch, Toby doing
his best to keep the latter between them and the place where the
burglars had disappeared.
“Way enough,” he whispered presently. “Let her run. Now, then, get her!”
Arnold reached across the gunwale and seized the side of the other
launch, and Toby, dropping the wheel, sprawled across the _Frolic’s_
decking.
“No line in sight,” he muttered, and with quick hands he took the
_Frolic’s_ neatly coiled painter, and slipped it over the cleat on the
little forward deck. Then, squirming back, he started aft. As he did so
a bullet sang overhead and the sound of the shot awoke the silence.