AN ALARMING FACT
Neither Alvin nor Chester asked their companion to explain his startling
words, for there was no need to do so: only one meaning could be given
them.
"How far dare you venture out with the _Shark_?" asked Alvin of the
master of the little boat.
He shook his head.
"She isn't built for rough weather."
"I know that, but the sea is unusually calm, and there isn't the
slightest danger."
"Not just now, but there's no saying when a blow may come up that will
swamp me before I can run to cover."
"I have no wish to ask you to go into danger and will only request you
to push out as far as you are willing."
George must have known something of the youth who had hired him, that he
was the son of a very wealthy father, and willingly paid a high price
for one's services. The boatman scanned the sky and different points of
the compass. So far as he could judge, the weather would remain fair for
hours to come. In the hope of heartening him Chester said:
"With your boat capable of making twenty miles an hour, you can turn
back whenever you think best and run into one of the many harbors in
half an hour."
"True enough," grinned George, "if I'm within reach of 'em. I don't mind
trying it a little while longer, but not for many miles."
He slowed down, for the spray dashed over the wind-shield, and it was
plain the swells were increasing, or rather the boat was plunging into a
region where they were growing larger.
The chums did not say anything to him for a considerable time. He could
tell them nothing more and they ought not to distract his attention.
They were in a fever of dread, for never before had the outlook been so
gloomy for Mike Murphy. The youths even hesitated to speak to each
other, for neither could say anything of a cheering nature. Alvin picked
up the binoculars and rising to his feet and steadying himself as the
prow rose and dived, carefully scanned the far-reaching half circle of
the Atlantic. The form of a brig dimly observable by the naked eye, as
it headed toward Pemaquid Point, was brought out with a distinctness
that caused an exclamation of surprise.
"What a fine instrument! It equals those our government buys from
Germany for the use of the army and navy. Chester, look at that fishing
boat toward Inner Heron Island."
His companion stood up, balanced himself, shaded his brow and wrinkled
his forehead with the strain of the attempt.
"I see the two men as plainly as if they were no more than a hundred
feet away."
He slowly swept the horizon and enjoyed the visual feast to the full.
Far out to sea the smoke of a steamer trailed against the sky, the hull
hidden by the convexity of the earth, and nearer in a schooner had
caught enough wind to belly her sails and cause her to heel over as she
sped outward. Pemaquid Point showed clearly to the northwest. The fort,
more than two centuries old, is at Pemaquid Beach several miles north.
Nearer rose Thrumbcap Island, south of the Thread of Life ledges, Crow
Island, and large Rutherford Island, almost cut in two by Christmas
Cove. To the left was Inner Heron, and on the other side of the broad
mouth of the Damariscotta River, the long, narrow Linekin Neck reaching
northward to East Boothbay. Scanning the sweep of water to the south and
west many other islands were seen--Ram, Fisherman, the Hypocrites,
White, Outer Heron, Damariscove, Pumpkin and some so small that they are
not known by any name.
But nowhere on the waste of heaving water did the eager eye discern the
lost _Deerfoot_, though boats of varying sizes and models trailed across
the field of vision. Alvin joined in the scrutiny, but with no more
success, and was thus engaged when he became aware of a sharp turn in
the course of the _Shark_. Looking down at the wheelman, he saw that
the boat was making a circle.
"What's the matter, George?" he asked, though he knew the meaning of the
movement.
"It won't do to go any farther; I've already pushed too many miles out."
"There's nothing to be gained by taking the same route back; turn south
so as to pass below Fisherman Island."
"I don't see any objection to that," muttered George, doing as
requested, and holding the boat to a fairly moderate speed.
The runabout was now heading southwest, with the purpose of thus
continuing for a couple of miles, when she would swing round and make
for Squirrel Island and so on to Boothbay Harbor.
She was still driving in that direction, when George said to Alvin:
"You have run your motor boat often enough to understand her pretty
well."
"I hope so."
"There isn't much left for him to learn," was the comment of Chester.
"Take the wheel for a bit; you know the course as well as me."
"I am glad to relieve you," said Alvin, quickly changing places with the
young man.
"It isn't that, but I suspect my eyes are a little better than yours; I
want to use the glass awhile."
For several minutes the silence was broken only by the splash of the
water against the bow of the runabout, which plowed her way with ease
and grace. Chester Haynes resumed his seat and gave his chief attention
to George, who was on his feet and slowly sweeping the visible horizon.
The binoculars moved deliberately to and fro, with none of the three
speaking a word.
By and by the young man held the instrument pointed to the north, a
little to the right of the narrow fringe of islands with the odd name of
the Hypocrites. He was not studying this insignificant group, but, as
has been said, was looking a little to one side, toward Inner Heron,
three miles away. Pausing in the circling of the glasses, he held them
immovable for two or three minutes.
"It looks as if he sees something," reflected Chester, with his eyes on
the man, while Alvin simply peered ahead and held the _Shark_ to her
course. George muttered something, but Chester could not catch the
words. Suddenly he lowered the binoculars and asked Alvin to change
places again with him. When this was done he handed the instrument to
the youth, with the direction:
"Point her that way," indicating the north, "and if you study closely
you'll notice something."
Without reply, Alvin spread his feet apart to steady himself and
levelled the glass at the point named. The next moment he exclaimed in
great excitement:
"By gracious! I certainly believe it's the _Deerfoot_!"
Chester sprang up and reached for the binoculars, but his chum was not
ready to hand them over.
"It looks like her, but I'm not certain. What do you say, George?"
"It's her," was the ungrammatical but emphatic response.
The news almost overcame Alvin, who, passing the glasses to Chester,
dropped into his seat, that he might pull himself together.
The launch was a mile off and in so plain sight that the wonder was it
had not been seen before. It was headed diagonally toward Linekin Neck
and seemed to be going very slowly.
"Let me have another look," said George, who retained his place at the
wheel, while at the same time manipulating the instrument.
This time he did not continue his scrutiny as long as before. While so
engaged, the youths used their unassisted eyes. The _Deerfoot_, as she
undoubtedly was, could be seen in the position named, though of course
with less distinctness than through the binoculars.
"She doesn't seem to make much progress," remarked Alvin, with an
inquiring look at George, who swung the wheel over so as to head toward
the motor boat. He did not reply to the words of the youth, to whom he
again handed the instrument. Alvin persisted:
"How do you explain it?"
"She only moves as the current carries her."
"Do you mean she is drifting?"
"That's it."
A look told Alvin the young man had spoken the truth.
"That means she has broken down," suggested Chester, uttering the
thought that was in both of the minds of his companions.
"It can't mean anything else," said George, who evidently kept back some
of his fancies.
"Whistle to him," suggested Alvin.
A series of tootings were sent out. They were not loud, but in the
stillness must have gone beyond the _Deerfoot_. The three listened, but
heard no response.
"I knew there wouldn't be," commented George.
"Why not?"
He shook his head, but did not speak further.
After another study of his own boat through the glass, Alvin remarked
uneasily:
"I don't see anything of Mike. George, did you notice him?"
George shook his head without looking round.
"What do you think, Chester?" asked his friend.
"Probably he has been up all night and has fallen asleep," was the reply
of Chester, spoken with so much confidence that for the moment it
quieted the alarm of the other.
"That would be just like Mike. Something has gone wrong with the engine
and he hasn't the first idea of what he should do to repair it; so when
worn out, he has lain down and gone to sleep. We shall have the joke on
Mike when we see him."
George's lips were compressed and he remained silent until half the
intervening distance was passed; then he looked over his shoulder.
"Young men, the reason you don't see Mike _is because he isn't on that
boat_!"