WARM WORK AT THE "INLET."
Some one of the three boys was always on watch near the air ship
whenever she was moored. This duty, during the excitement Carl had
kicked up on the beach, had fallen to Dick Ferral.
Dick had made the ropes fast and was sitting in the sand near the car,
wondering what all the commotion was about. There was usually a crowd
of curious people around the Hawk, or staring down at her from the
board walk, but now the counter-attraction at the pier had drawn them
away, and that part of the beach was deserted.
Dick had seen Matt rush up the steps to the board walk, but the crowd
was so thick he had not been able to observe his rush out on the pier.
The rowboat, however, had not escaped his attention, and he had watched
it pull away from the steel pier and move off toward the Heinz pier.
Thereupon officers began running along the beach. McMillan kept abreast
of the rowboat on the shore, and another man ran toward the Heinz pier,
with the evident intention of catching the man in the boat if he tried
to land there.
Presently Matt came dashing up, and Dick sprang to his feet. He
could tell by his chum's manner that he was some way involved in the
excitement.
"What's going on, mate?" asked Dick.
"Cast off the ropes, Dick!" called Matt, leaping to the cable nearest
him. "We've got to overhaul that man in the boat, and capture him--if
we can."
"What's he been doing?"
As he put the question Dick was working at one of the other cables.
"I'll tell you when we're in the air, Dick," rejoined Matt. "Carl
butted into a moving picture, and a whole lot of trouble has come from
it."
While Dick was casting off the last rope and heaving it aboard, Matt
jumped into the car and got the motor going. By the time Dick was in
the car with him, Matt switched the power into the propeller, tilted
the steering rudder so as to carry the Hawk upward and seaward, and
they were off.
"Keep your eye on the boat, Dick," called Matt, "and let me know just
where she is all the time."
"Just now, matey," Dick answered, from the lookout station forward,
"the boat's doubling the end of the Heinz pier."
"The rascal will not land there. He knows the police will be waiting
for him. I don't see how it's possible for him to get away, with the
whole shore line patrolled."
"What's he done? Keelhaul me if I haven't been trying to guess that for
the last ten minutes."
"As I told you, Carl got into a moving picture. Some men were taking a
picture on the beach, and Carl, seeing a young woman--as he thought--in
distress, tried to save her from pirates. The gang set a dog on him,
and in getting away from the dog, our pard upset a dago's pushcart. An
officer had Carl, when I got over close to the pier, and the picture
people and the dago were making it hot for him. I guess they'd have
jailed Carl if it hadn't been for Mr. Townsend----"
"The Townsend we had with us on the last trip?"
"Yes. Townsend knew the picture man, and from the way he talked I guess
he don't know much good of him. Anyhow, while Townsend was looking
through some documents he had taken from his pocket, the picture
man--Jurgens by name--grabbed a paper and made off with it. Great spark
plugs! I never saw a more brazen piece of work. I chased Jurgens out on
the steel pier, but he got away from me by taking to a rowboat that was
moored there."
Ferral laughed. The idea of Carl mistaking what was going on and
trying to save a girl from pirates, there in that fashionable resort,
was too much for him. Temporarily he lost sight of the graver aspects
of the affair. Even Matt grinned at the spectacle the Dutch boy, in his
bathing suit, must have made, battling with pirates to save a girl who
did not want to be saved.
"This thing has got a mighty serious side to it, Dick," said Matt,
suddenly sobering. "I haven't the least notion what that paper was
that Jurgens grabbed, but it must have been an important document. And
Townsend lost it while trying to help Carl and me. That puts it up to
us, Dick, to help him get it back."
"Right-o!" returned Ferral. "There's a boat putting off from the Heinz
pier. McMillan's in it and two men are breaking their backs at the
oars. They'll get this Jurgens swab, if I'm any prophet. They're going
about two fathoms to Jurgens' one."
"How's Jurgens heading?"
"For the open sea. He's struck rough water just over the bar from the
Inlet, and his boat's on end about half the time. If one of those
combers hits him broadside on, he'll go to the sharks, paper and all."
"What's his notion for heading out into the ocean, I wonder?"
"Strike me lucky!" exclaimed Ferral. "Why, he's making for a sailboat,
and the craft is laying to to take him aboard."
"What's the name of the boat? Can you make it out?"
The sun was down and shadows were settling over the water. Enough light
remained, though, for the sharp eyes of Ferral to read the name on the
sailboat's stern.
"She's the _Crescent_," he announced, "and one of the boats that berth
in the Inlet. There! Listen to that!"
The crack of a revolver echoed up to Matt and Carl above the surge of
the breakers.
"Who's doing the shooting, Dick?" asked Matt.
"McMillan. He sent a bullet across the _Crescent's_ bows. That's an
order for her to keep lying to until McMillan can come aboard. They're
just taking Jurgens out of the boat and making the boat's painter fast.
Ah!" There was excitement in Ferral's voice as he went on. "The skipper
of the _Crescent_ isn't obeying orders, but is going on out to sea.
I'll bet McMillan is as mad as a cannibal. There he goes, blazing away
at the _Crescent_--but he might as well throw his bullets into the air."
"The _Crescent_ will be called to account for that!" exclaimed Matt.
"McMillan is pulling back to the pier," proceeded Dick, watching below.
"What are we to do now, matey? We'd have had considerable trouble
taking Jurgens off the rowboat, and it's a cinch we can't get him off
that other craft."
"We'll follow the _Crescent_ for a while," said the young motorist,
"and see where she goes. Possibly she'll try to land Jurgens at some
point on the mainland. If she does, we'll drop down there and do what
we can to capture him."
For more than an hour the _Crescent_ steered straight out into the
ocean, the Hawk hovering above her. The sailboat was not putting out
any lights, and the growing darkness rendered it impossible for Matt or
Dick to see any one aboard her. They could hear voices, however, for
sounds on the earth's surface are always wonderfully distinct to people
in balloons or other air craft.
At the end of an hour and a half the _Crescent_ put about. The Hawk
followed the sailboat as far as the channel leading through the bar
at the entrance to the Inlet. Having made sure that the sailboat would
return to her usual berth, the boys headed their air ship for the beach.
"I guess McMillan will be on the lookout for the _Crescent_, Dick,"
said Matt, "but we ought to make sure that Jurgens don't get away. I
believe I'll get out of the Hawk, close to the Inlet, and leave you to
take the air ship back to her moorings."
"I can do that all right, messmate," answered Dick.
There was plenty of room for landing, and when the Hawk had been
brought within a couple of feet of the ground Matt dropped over the
rail and Ferral took his seat among the levers.
As Matt hurried to the board walk, and on to the wharf at the Inlet, he
looked around him for some officer whom he could pick up and take along
with him. There was no officer in sight, however.
It was the dinner hour at the big hotels, and promenaders had nearly
all deserted the ocean front. A dozen or more sailboats were heaving to
the swell and knocking against the wharf at the Inlet, but only a few
of the men belonging with them were on the wharf itself.
"Can you tell me where the _Crescent_ is?" Matt asked of a man leaning
against an electric-light pole.
"Jest seen 'er standin' in," was the reply. "She ought to be at the end
of the wharf by this time."
"Is that where she lies when she's tied up?"
"Yes."
Thinking that surely he would find McMillan, or some other officer, at
the end of the wharf, ready to deal with Jurgens the moment he tried to
come ashore, Matt hurried on.
The _Crescent_ had just warped into her berth. A man on the wharf was
making her cable fast. Under the electric light Matt could see a group
of three or four men in the cockpit of the little sailing craft. At
about the same moment, a figure lurched forward from behind a barrel
that stood on the wharf. The gleam of a star on the coat informed Matt
that the man was an officer.
"Hello, there!" the young motorist called to the group in the cockpit.
"Where's that man you picked up off the Heinz pier?"
Two of the men climbed to the side of the _Crescent_ and jumped to the
wharf planks. Neither of them was Jurgens.
"You've got us guessin', friend," said one of the men.
"Not much I haven't," answered Matt, stoutly. "I was one of those in
the air ship and I saw you pick up Jurgens."
"You've got him, all right," put in the officer. "He's a thief, and I'm
here to arrest him. The _Crescent_ is liable to get herself into hot
water by this afternoon's work."
The officer was not McMillan. While he spoke, he started for the edge
of the wharf with the apparent intention of getting into the sailboat
and making a search.
"Hold up a minute, officer," called the man from the _Crescent_,
pulling off his coat.
The officer halted, and turned. At that instant, Matt saw the fellow
who had been making the boat's cables fast to the posts, creeping
toward the officer from behind.
"Look out, there!" he yelled. "One of those men is after you from the
rear! They're trying to----"
Matt's words were cut short. While he was speaking, the man from the
_Crescent_ had whirled suddenly and thrown the coat over his head.
Matt had a fleeting glimpse of the officer, crumpling to the wharf
under a vicious blow from behind, and then his own head was encompassed
in the smothering folds of the coat and he was thrown struggling to the
planks.