WHAT STEVE SAW
Waiting was weary work after that. It was two hours and a half to
sunrise and, since two of their number were sufficient to keep watch,
the others presently went below and napped. Steve and Bert Alley
remained on deck. Steve, although he perhaps needed sleep more than
anyone, refused to trust other eyes than his own, and while darkness
lasted he watched the white path cast across the water by the
_Adventurer's_ searchlight. But darkness and silence held until shortly
after four, when the eastern sky began to lighten. The next half-hour
passed more slowly than any that had gone before. Gradually their range
of vision enlarged, and Steve, peering into the greyness, drew Bert's
attention to a darker hulk that lay a few hundred yards up the harbour.
They watched it anxiously as the light increased. That it was a boat of
about the size of the _Follow Me_ and that is was painted dark became
more and more apparent. Then, quite suddenly, a ray of rosy light shot
up beyond Eastern Point and the neighbouring motor-boat lay revealed.
Steve sighed his disappointment. She was not the _Follow Me_ after all,
but a battered, black-hulled power-boat used for gill-netting.
One by one, as the light strengthened, the others stumbled on deck,
yawning and rubbing their sleepy eyes. The _Adventurer_ was anchored
more than a mile from the inner harbour, and between her and Ten Pound
Island lay a big, rusty-red salt bark, high out of water, and five
fishing schooners. But these, aside from the disreputable little
gill-netter, were all the craft that met their gaze.
"Either," said Steve wearily, "she never came in at all or she's up in
the inner harbour. I'll wager she didn't get out again last night. We'll
go up and mosey around, I guess. Ossie, how about some coffee?"
"I'll make some, Steve. Guess we'd better have an early breakfast too."
"It can't be too early to suit me," murmured Bert Alley, as he dragged
his feet down the companion way and toppled onto a berth. The
_Adventurer_ weighed anchor and in the first flush of a glorious Summer
dawn, chugged warily up the still harbour. She kept toward the eastern
shore and the boys swept every pier and cove with sharp eyes. Then
Rocky Neck turned back them and they picked a cautious way over sunken
rocks to the entrance of the inner harbour. By this time it was broad
daylight and their task was made easier. Still, as the inner harbour was
nearly a mile long and a good half-mile wide, and indented with numerous
coves, the search was long. They nosed in and out of slips, circled
basins and ran down a dozen false clues supplied by sailors on the
fishing schooners that lined the wharves. And, at seven o'clock they had
to acknowledge defeat. The _Follow Me_ was most surely not in Gloucester
Harbour. Nor, for that matter, was there a cabin-cruiser that resembled
her in any way. It was the latter fact that puzzled them, for they had
somehow become convinced that the darkened craft that had led them past
the breakwater last night was, if not the _Follow Me_, at least a boat
of her size. "And," said Harry Corwin, "we know that that boat did come
in here, for we saw her light disappear behind the breakwater. Let's
look around again."
"If she came in for gasoline," said Phil, "we might find out whether she
got it. There can't be many places where she could fill her tanks." The
_Adventurer_ was slowly rounding a point that lay between the cove from
which she had just emerged and Western Harbour, and Wink Wheeler, who
was sitting on the rail on the starboard side of the deck, gave
utterance to an exclamation of surprise and pointed ahead to where a
drab-coloured power-boat had suddenly emerged into sight nearly a
half-mile away.
"Look at that!" he cried.
"That's not the _Follow Me_, you idiot," said Joe.
"No, but where'd she come from?" demanded Wink.
For a moment the boys stared and then Steve leaned quickly over the
chart. "By Jiminy!" he muttered. "There's a way out there. Look,
fellows! See where it says 'Drawbridge'? Evidently you can get through
there into the Squam River, and the river takes you out into Ipswich
Bay! It's dollars to doughnuts that's where they took the _Follow Me_!"
Steve drew down the throttle and the cruiser lunged forward in response.
"We'll have a look, anyway," he said. "It was stupid of me not to have
noticed that on the chart, but it's hardly big enough to be seen."
Straight for the beach at the curve of the wide cove sped the
_Adventurer_, her nose set for the drawbridge that showed against the
blue sky. As they got closer an outlet showed clear, a narrow space
between the bridge masonry, with a strong current coming through from
the further side.
"Gee, it doesn't look very big," said Joe. "And how about head-room,
Steve?"
"Room enough," was the answer, as the _Adventurer_ slowed down. "They'll
raise the draw if we whistle, I suppose, but we don't need to."
"We'll scrape our funnel, as sure as shooting!" cried Perry as the
cruiser neared the bridge.
"We'll miss by two feet," answered Steve untroubledly.
They held their breaths and watched nervously as the shadow of the
bridge fell across the boat. Then, with the sound of the engine and
exhaust echoing loudly, the cruiser dug her nose into the out-running
tide and shot safely through to emerge into a narrow canal that
stretched straight ahead before them until it joined the river. They
breathed easier as the bridge was left behind. Once in the river it was
necessary to go cautiously and watch the channel buoys, for the chart
showed a depth of only four feet at low tide for the first mile and a
half. If they had not all been so absorbed in the fate and recovery of
the _Follow Me_ they would have enjoyed that journey down the Squam
River immensely, for it was a beautiful stream, quiet and tranquil in
the morning sunlight. Summer camps and cottages dotted the shores and
green hills hemmed it in. They had breakfast on the way, eating it for
the most part on deck. Now and then the _Adventurer_ paused while they
examined a motor-boat moored in some cove.
"There's one thing certain," said Steve. "Those folks couldn't have
brought the _Follow Me_ through here in the dark. If they did come
through that cut last night they anchored and waited for light. Keep a
watch for gasoline stations, fellows."
They found the first one at Annisquam, near where the yacht club pier
stuck out into the channel. Steve sidled the _Adventurer_ up to a
landing and, while Han held her with the hook, made inquiry of a
grizzled man in faded blue jumpers.
"We're looking for a motor-boat called the _Follow Me_," he explained.
"Have you seen her?"
The man shook his head. "What was she like?" he asked.
Steve described her, aided by Harry Corwin, and the man pushed his old
straw hat back, and rubbed his forehead reflectively. Finally: "There
was a launch answerin' to that description stopped here about"--he gazed
at the sun--"about two hours ago, I cal'ate. She was black, but she
didn't have no name on her so far as I could see. I sold 'em thirty
gallons o' gas an' they went on out toward the bar."
"Who was on her?" asked Steve quickly.
"Two or three men I never seen before. Three, I cal'ate there was. She
wasn't here very long. They come up to the house an' got me up from the
breakfast table. Said they was in a hurry. Come to think on it, boys, I
believe they'd painted the name out on the stern. They ain't stolen her,
have they?"
"That's just what they have done," answered Steve. "Shove off, Han!
Thank you, sir. About two hours ago, you say?"
"Might be a little less than two hours. Well, I hope you get her. I
didn't much like the looks of the fellers aboard her."
"Where do you think they'd take her?" called Joe as the boat swung her
stern around.
"I dunno. They might switch around into the Essex River, or they might
take her in Ipswich way, or they might head straight for Newburyport. If
they wanted to hide her I cal'ate they might run in behind Plum Island
somewheres."
"Sounds pretty hopeless," said Steve as the _Adventurer_ took up her way
again. "Look at this chart and see all the places she _might_ be, will
you? It's a regular what-do-you-call-it--labyrinth!"
"It certainly is," agreed Joe. "And there's a lot of shallows about
here, too. Where's this Plum Island he spoke of?"
Steve pointed it out, a seven-mile stretch of sand behind which emptied
four or five small rivers. "Shall we try it?" he asked.
"Might as well be thorough," Joe replied. "What do you say, Harry?"
"I say yes. Seems to me they'd be mighty likely to slide into some such
place if only to paint a new name on."
"We'll have a look then," agreed Steve. The _Adventurer_ dipped her way
across Squam Bar and Steve swung the wheel. "Southeast, one-fourth
south," he muttered, looking from the chart to compass. "Watch for a
black spar buoy off the lighthouse. If they took the _Follow Me_ into
Essex Bay, though, we're running right away from her."
To port, the sand dunes shone dazzlingly in the sunlight and a long
stretch of snow-white beach kept pace with them as they made for the
entrance to Plum Island Sound. Several boats, sailing and power craft,
had been sighted, but nothing that looked in the least like the _Follow
Me_. The sun climbed into a hazy blue sky and the day grew hot in spite
of the light westerly breeze. Steve picked up his buoys, a black and
then two red, and swung the cruiser in toward the mouth of the Ipswich
River. The chart showed feet instead of fathoms in places and Steve
slowed down cautiously until they were in the channel. They left Ipswich
Light on the port beam and kept on past the river mouth and into the
sound.
"What happens," asked Harry Corwin, looking at the chart over Steve's
shoulder, "when there aren't any soundings shown?"
"Just what I was wondering myself," replied the navigator. "It doesn't
tell you anything after you pass that last red spar buoy. Still, with
those two rivers coming in beyond up there, there must be enough water
for us if we can find it. I've about arrived at the conclusion that the
_Follow Me_ was mighty well named, Harry. We've been following her for
twelve hours, pretty near, and as things look now we'll be still
following her a week from Christmas!"
"I suppose," sighed the captain of the lost boat, "that what we should
have done was report it to the police and stayed right where we were.
Dad's going to be somewhat peeved if we lose that boat."
"I thought she belonged to you and Tom," said Wink Wheeler.
"So she does, but dad gave her to us and he's rather fond of her
himself."
"Well, it's too bad," Wink answered, "but I don't believe we'll ever
find her now. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, this sort of
thing. We don't even know for sure that she isn't down around New York
somewhere by this time!"
"Yes, we do," said Steve quietly.
"We do? How do we?"
"Because I'm looking at her," was the reply. Steve nodded ahead and
pushed back the throttle. "If that isn't the _Follow Me_ I'll--I'll eat
her!"