THE SEARCHLIGHT FINDS A "DOUBLE"
Yet, though his confidence in success had received a severe jolt,
Captain Tom reached out for the megaphone.
"Run in straight and close, Hank," he ordered. "I want every possible
second of conversation before that drab boat gets within talking
distance of the 'Fulton.'"
The "Restless" and the freighter were now within a mile of each other,
and almost head-on. The drab boat, about two miles away, had altered
its course so as to pick up the freighter at a more southerly point.
"Run to your table, Joe," commanded the young skipper, "and notify the
'Fulton' that we are going to hail her for a brief pow-wow."
The speed with which young Dawson worked was shown by the fact that,
when still half a mile away, the big freighter, hailed by wireless,
began to slow down speed. It was plain that she was going to lie to in
order to hear the whole of the hail from the "Restless."
"Great Scott, though! Look at that!" suddenly ejaculated Tom
Halstead.
The drab seventy-footer had suddenly gone about, making fast westerly
time for the shore.
"Go about after the seventy-footer, Hank," almost exploded Halstead,
in the intensity of his excitement over this new move. "Dalton doesn't
seem to want to try the freighter now. Follow Dalton back to shore."
"But the 'Fulton's' slowing down. You're going to show him the
politeness of telling the freighter's captain what it was all about,
ain't you?"
"Let Joe do it," replied Tom, tersely. "What's the wireless for?"
Just at this moment Joe Dawson appeared from below.
"Our apologies to the freighter, Joe," called Skipper Tom. "Tell him
we're after the drab boat. Tell him that our game is to stop a
fugitive from getting out of the United States."
Joe again appeared just as the freighter began to make full headway
once more.
"Captain Carson sends you his compliments from the 'Fulton,' Tom, for
chasing the fugitive off."
"And now, we're going to chase that fugitive in," uttered Halstead,
grimly. "By George! Look at the way that drab boat is beginning to
travel. Joe, we can't let her lose us in this fashion."
As the "Fulton" passed out hull down, and then finally vanished on the
southern horizon, the chase after the drab seventy-footer became
lively and exciting.
"Can you make out Dalton aboard of her?" asked Powell Seaton, as Tom
stood forward, leaning against the edge of the forward deck-house, the
marine glass as fast to his eyes as though glued there.
"No, sir. If Dalton is aboard, he's keeping out of sight in the
cabin."
"Did you see, when the drab boat was more head-on, whether Lemly was
at the wheel?"
"The man at the wheel wasn't Lemly, sir, though I believe that fellow
is on board as the actual captain," Halstead answered.
"Humph! Is the Drab going to get away from us?" questioned Hank,
wonderingly. "My, look at her bow cut water!"
"She's a faster boat than I thought," Tom responded. "But we don't
mean to let her get away. Joe, how are we going on speed?"
"I couldn't get another revolution out of the twin shafts without
overheating everything," Dawson replied, seriously. "Honestly, Tom, if
this speed doesn't suit, I'm afraid we'll have to make the best of
it."
"Then don't lose a single inch by bad steering, Hank," Halstead
directed, looking around at his helmsman. "Whenever you want relief,
let me know."
For five miles the drab seventy-footer kept her lead, though she did
not seem able to increase it. That craft was still heading shoreward,
and now the low, long, hazy line of the coast was in sight, becoming
every minute more plain.
"They're going to head straight for the shore, unless they've some
slicker trick hidden up their sleeves," declared Tom Halstead.
"I wonder that they're running so hard from us," mused Powell Seaton.
"Most likely, sir," responded the young skipper, "because Dalton and
Lemly believe we have officers aboard. Of course they know--or
suspect--that warrants are out charging them with stealing the
'Restless' the other night."
"Suppose Dalton and Lemly are not aboard that boat?" challenged Mr.
Seaton, suddenly.
Tom Halstead's lower jaw sagged for just an instant.
"Of course, there's that chance. We may have been fooled, and we may
be chasing a straw man in a paper boat right at this minute, sir. Yet,
if Dalton were out on the water, with his stolen papers, he'd want to
get nowhere else but to Brazil. If he isn't on the water, then he's
not trying this route to your Brazilian enemies, and we might as well
be out here as on Lonely Island."
As the boat in the lead neared the coast Halstead again kept the
marine glass to his eyes.
"There's a little river over yonder," he observed.
"Yes; I know the stream. Hardly more than a creek," replied Mr.
Seaton.
"Any deep water there, sir?"
"For only a very little way in. Then the stream moves over a pebbly
bottom like a running brook."
"Then it looks, sir, as though Lemly--if he's aboard--plans to run in
there and hustle ashore."
"Or else stay and fight," hinted Powell Seaton. "The place is lonely
enough for a fight, if the rascals dare try it."
"Hepton!" summoned Halstead, a few moments later. "Don't you think
you'd better get up your rifle? You don't need to show it, but someone
may send us a shot or two from the drab boat."
Hepton sprang below, bringing up both rifles. Crouching behind the
forward deck-house, he examined the magazines of both weapons.
"We're carrying load enough for a squad o' infantry," laughed Hepton,
showing his strong, white teeth. "Let those fellers on the Drab try
it, if they want to see what we've got."
The seventy-footer was shutting off speed now, going slowly into the
mouth of the little river. Almost immediately afterwards her reverse
was applied, after which she swung at anchor.
Tom, too, without a word to Hank, who stood by the wheel, reached
over, slowing the "Restless" down to a gait of something like eight
miles an hour.
"What's the order, sir?" he asked, turning to Mr. Seaton. "Are we to
go in and anchor alongside?"
"I--I don't want to run you young men into any too dangerous places,"
began Powell Seaton, hesitatingly. "I--I----"
"Danger's one of the things we're paid for," clicked Tom Halstead,
softly. "It'll all in the charter. Do you want to go in alongside?"
"I--I----"
Bang!
The shot came so unexpectedly that the motor boat boys jumped despite
themselves. Hepton cocked one of the rifles, and was about to rise
with it, when the young skipper of the "Restless" prodded the man
gently with one foot.
"Don't show your guns, Hepton," murmured Tom. "Wait until we find out
what that shot was meant for."
No one now appeared on board the drab seventy-footer. There had been
no smoke, no whistle of a bullet by the heads of those on the bridge
deck of the "Restless."
"That was intended only to make us nervous," grinned Captain Tom.
"Or else to show us that they have fire-arms," suggested Seaton.
"Well, sir, I'm headed to go in alongside, unless you give me other
orders," hinted the young skipper.
"Cover about half the rest of the distance, then reverse and lie to,"
decided Powell Seaton. He now had the extra pair of marine glasses,
and was attentively studying both the boat and the shore nearby.
Tom took the wheel himself, stopping where he had been directed. So
neatly was headway corrected that the "Restless" barely drifted on the
smooth water inshore.
There was now remaining less than an hour of daylight.
"I think I understand their plan, if Dalton is on board," whispered
Mr. Seaton to his young captain. "Dalton is waiting until it is dark
enough to slip ashore."
"Hm! There's one way you _could_ stop that, if you want to take all
the risk," ventured Halstead, grinning thoughtfully.
"How?"
"Well, if it's the plan of anyone aboard the drab boat to slip on
shore under cover of darkness, then I could put our tender overboard
and row Hepton to one bank of the river with his rifle. Returning, I
could row you to the other shore, you to carry the other rifle."
"That would be a bold and open move," agreed Mr. Seaton, gasping at
first, then looking thoughtful. "But look at that shore, Halstead. See
the thick trees on either bank of the river. Hepton and I couldn't
watch a lot of stretch on both banks."
"With our help from the boat you could, sir."
"Again, how?"
"Why, it's shallow enough to drop anchor right here, Mr. Seaton. Then,
as soon as it grows the least bit dark, we boys could keep our
searchlight turned on the drab boat so that you and Hepton could see
every movement on her decks. From a quarter of a mile off you could
see anyone swimming ashore and run to stop him. There's no difficulty
about it, sir, except the risk."
"Hepton, I must talk that over with you," cried Powell Seaton. "I
don't feel that I have any right to run you into too certain
danger."
But Hepton smiled again in a way to show his white teeth.
"Don't worry 'bout me, Mr. Seaton. I feel big 'nough to take care of
myself, and I enlisted for the whole game, anyway."
"You could keep watch right from this deck," Halstead added. "But
then, if anyone slipped ashore from the Drab, you couldn't get on
shore fast enough to follow through the woods. You'd lose the trail
right after the start."
"Even if I were on shore, and Dalton walked right by me, what could I
do?" pondered Powell Seaton. "Of course, I know the sheriff of the
county would take him, for going aboard this boat and breaking it
loose from the dock the other night. A United States marshal might
arrest Dalton, on my request, for piracy in sailing away with the
boat. But would I have a right to seize Dalton and hold him--even if
able?"
"You can follow him until you _do_ run Dalton into one of the law's
officers," proposed Halstead.
"I believe I'm going ashore, anyway, to see what happens," announced
Mr. Seaton, after giving the matter a little more thought.
"But let me go ashore, first, on the other bank," begged Hepton. "Then
you can take second chance, sir."
"Very good, then," agreed the charter-man.
With the aid of his mates, Captain Tom had the anchor overboard, and
the small tender alongside in a jiffy. Hepton stepped down into the
smaller craft, carrying his rifle so that it could be seen. Tom
himself took the oars to row.
"I'd better put you in on the bank to the left," whispered Halstead,
and Hepton nodded.
They passed within forty yards of the stern of the drab boat, yet not
a single human being appeared on that mysterious craft.
Having put Hepton on shore, Halstead rowed back for Mr. Seaton.
Embarking this second passenger, Tom, this time, rowed a little closer
to the seventy-footer lying at anchor in the river's mouth. Now, the
head of a man unknown to either of them showed aft.
"Where you-all goin' with so many guns?" this man asked, in a
half-jeering tone.
"Night hunting," retorted Tom, dryly, not feeling guilty of a lie
since he was certain the other would not believe him.
Landing Mr. Seaton on the other river bank, the young captain of the
"Restless" returned to his craft.
By now it was nearly dark.
"We may as well see how the searchlight is working," Joe Dawson
suggested.
"Turn it on them, and sweep it around," responded Halstead.
The strong glare of light was found to be working satisfactorily. Dark
came on quickly, still without any more signs of life aboard the Drab
than had already been observed.
"Supper time, surely," announced Hank, in a glum voice.
"Don't bother about that to-night," objected the young skipper. "Slip
down into the galley and make sandwiches enough for all hands. We can
eat and watch--_must_, in fact, if we eat at all."
After the sandwiches had been made and disposed of the Motor Boat Club
boys began to find the swinging of the light on the drab boat, on the
water and on either river bank, to be growing rather monotonous.
"I wish something would happen," grumbled Hank.
"Now, don't start a fuss about that," yawned Joe. "Something is likely
enough to start up at any second."
"It has started," whispered Tom Halstead, swinging the searchlight,
just then, across the Drab's hull. "Look there!"
Two much-muffled figures, looking nearly identical, and each of the
pair carrying a bag, appeared on deck amidships, one standing on each
side of the deck-house. Then, as quickly, by their sides stood two
other men who sprang to lower the two small boats that hung at davits.
One muffled man and one helper embarked in each boat, the helper in
each case rowing swiftly to either bank of the river.
"That's a queer game, but a clever one," muttered Captain Tom,
swinging the glaring searchlight and watching.
"It'll mix up Mr. Seaton and Hepton all right," grimaced Joe Dawson.
"Each will wonder whether _he_ has Dalton on his side of the river, to
follow."
Now, as quickly, the two boat-tenders rowed back to the Drab, and the
boats were triced up in a twinkling.
"Say, they've got their anchor up!" cried Hank Butts, in a breathless
undertone. "They're going to scoot out on us."
"Then I'm ready to bet," muttered Tom Halstead, "that neither of the
muffled men that went ashore was Anson Dalton. They must be trying to
throw our crowd off the trail, and now that seventy-footer is trying
to get off with Dalton still aboard!"
Whatever the plan was, the Drab was now backing out of the river mouth
and swinging around. So far none of her sailing lights were in
evidence. She looked more like a pirate craft slinking out into the
night on an errand of dire mischief.
Once out of the mouth of the river, the Drab swung around, then began
to move ahead. By this time her prow was head-on for the "Restless,"
as though aimed to strike the latter craft amidships.
Then, as the Drab's speed increased, Tom Halstead vented excitedly:
"Jupiter! They're out to cut us in two while we ride here at anchor!"