A STRANGE RACE
Suddenly the _Water Witch's_ whistle sent out a series of piping toots.
"What's the meaning of that?" asked Chester of Detective Calvert, who had
quietly resumed his seat in one of the wicker chairs in front of the
youth.
"It's a challenge to a race."
"I accept it," said Alvin, with a flash of his eyes. At the same moment
he swung the wheel over and began circling out to the left, so as to turn
in the shortest possible space. "If that boat can outrun me I want to
know it."
"Be keerful ye don't run over him," cautioned Mike, catching the
excitement, "as Tam McMurray said whin he started to overtake a
locomotive."
Alvin quickly hit up the pace of the launch, which sped down the
Sheepscot with so sudden a burst of speed that all felt the impulse. The
sharp bow cut the current like a knife, the water curving over in a
beautiful arch on each side and foaming away from the churning screw.
Even with the wind-shield they caught the impact of the breeze, caused by
their swiftness, and each was thrilled by the battle for mastery.
"Are you doing your best?" asked Calvert, watching the actions of the
youthful Captain.
"No; I am making about two-thirds of the other's speed."
"Then don't do any better, is my advice," said the detective.
Alvin glanced over his shoulder.
"Why not?"
"It may be wise at this stage of the game not to let them know that you
can surpass them. Wait till the necessity arises."
"I agree with Mr. Calvert," added Chester, and the Captain was impressed
by the logic of the counsel. He was on the point of increasing the pace,
but refrained. In truth he was already wondering what they would do if
they overtook the other and what could be gained by passing the boat.
Again the whistle piped several times and it was evident that the
fugitive, as it may be called, had "put on more steam."
"Do you wish me to let her get away from us?" asked Alvin.
"Not for the present, but that may be the best course. Hold your own for
awhile and then gradually fall back."
When the race opened, less than an eighth of a mile separated the
contestants. The abrupt burst lessened this slightly and then it appeared
to be stationary as the two glided down the river.
Such were the relative positions when the _Water Witch_ shot past Ram
Island, holding the middle of the stream, and a few minutes later came
abreast of Isle of Springs.
"Those two young fellows have a man with them," remarked Calvert. "He
tried to keep out of sight when we first met, but now he doesn't seem to
care. You can see him plainly without the help of the glasses."
Such was the fact, and Chester said:
"They must know that we also have a friend with us."
"I don't see that it matters either way. I think you are gaining."
"But not half fast enough," added Mike, who was standing and impatient to
beat their opponent. "We must come up wid the spalpeens before they git
to Boothbay."
"They are not heading for Boothbay," observed Calvert, whose keen eyes
had detected the change in the line of flight. His companions saw he was
right. The front boat had made so abrupt a change of course that it was
almost at right angles to that of the pursuer. The side of the launch was
exposed, showing the two youths, one of whom held the wheel, while the
man with a mustache sat directly beside the other. It might be said of
the two craft and their crews that they were twins, so marked was their
resemblance.
Naturally Alvin shifted his line of pursuit. You may recall that,
opposite the Isle of Springs, Goose Rock Passage connects Sheepscot River
with Knubble Bay, which leads into Montsweag Bay, reaching northward on
the western side of the long island of Westport. In their first trip
northward our young friends had gone to the eastward of Westport, as they
had been doing during this race. Montsweag Bay takes the name of Back
River at the northern end of the island and that and the Sheepscot unite
above before reaching Wiscasset.
The _Water Witch_ dived into Goose Neck Passage past Newdick Point, where
it turned northward into Knubble Bay. This is the path taken by the
steamers from Bath and other places on the Kennebec when going to
Boothbay Harbor, Squirrel Island and other points. To the westward of
these bodies of water sweeps the noble Kennebec to the sea.
Just ahead was discerned a swiftly approaching mass of tumbling water,
above which the deck, pilot house and puffing smokestack of a little
steamer showed. This was the "pony of the Kennebec"--the _Gardiner_,
plowing ahead in such desperate haste that one might well believe the
fate of a score of persons depended upon its not losing a half minute.
Alvin took good care to give her plenty of room and saluted with several
whistle toots. There was no reply. The captain merely glanced at the two
craft and sped onward like an arrow from the bow of the hunter.
The _Deerfoot_ rocked and plunged in the swell made by the steamer,
which, spreading out like a fan from its bow, ran tumbling and foaming
along the rocky shores, keeping pace with the headlong charge of the
boat, and trying to engulf everything in its path. One small catboat that
was tied to a rickety, home-made landing, after a couple of dives
capsized, as if it were a giant flapjack under which a housewife had slid
her turning iron.
"They're gaining!" exclaimed Chester, who was closely watching the
progress of the racers. "Do you mean to let them get away, Alvin?"
"Mr. Calvert will answer that question."
"I do so by advising that you neither gain nor lose for the present."
The Captain gave the launch a little more power, and it became clear to
all that the pursuer was picking up the ground, or rather water, that she
had lost. Then for several minutes no difference in speed was
perceptible. A space of a furlong separated the two when they shot past
the point of land bearing the odd name of Thomas Great Toe, which is on
the western side of the lower part of Westport, some two miles above
Goose Neck Passage. Here the water is a mile in width, and is filled with
islands of varying sizes, until the large bay to the northward is
reached.
The _Water Witch_ persisted in hugging the eastern shore, while her
pursuer kept well out, as if to make sure of having plenty of room in
which to pass her, when the chance came. But all the same the chance did
not come. It was soon seen that the fugitive was drawing away from her
pursuer. Mike Murphy fumed, but held his peace.
"It's mesilf that hasn't any inflooence here," he reflected, "as I
obsarved to mysilf whin dad and mither agreed that a thundering big
licking was due me."
"Can you overhaul her?" asked Detective Calvert.
"Easiest thing in the world; I can shoot past her as if she were lying
still."
"Well, don't do it."
Mike could remain silent no longer.
"That's a dooce of a way to run a race! Whin ye find ye can bate the
ither out of sight ye fall back and let her doot. That's the style I used
to run races wid the ither boys at school, but the raison was I couldn't
help it. If ye'll allow me to utter a few words of wisdom I'll do the
same."
Alvin nodded his head.
"It is that ye signal to that pirut ahead to wait and give us a tow,
being that's the only way we can howld our own wid 'em."
Now while it was trying to Alvin and Chester to engage in a race of the
nature described and voluntarily allow the contestant to beat them, when
they knew they had the power of winning, yet they believed it was the
true policy, since Detective Calvert had said so. They understood the
disgust of Mike and could not forbear having a little fun at his expense.
"You see," said Chester gravely, "those two young men who gave you and
Alvin such a warm time the other night are on the other boat, and if we
should come to close quarters with them they would be pretty sure to even
up matters with you."
Mike glared at the speaker, as if doubting the evidence of his ears.
"Phwat is that ye're saying?" he demanded. "Isn't that the dearest object
of yer heart? I shall niver die contint till I squar' matters wid 'em,
and ye knows the same."
"You forget," added Calvert, with the same seriousness, "that they have a
full-grown man to help them out."
"And haven't we a full-grown man wid us, as me dad said whin he
inthrodooced me to his friends at Donnybrook, I being 'liven years old?
Begorra, I'm thinking we haven't any such person on boord."
It was a pretty sharp retort, but the officer could not repress his
amusement at the angry words. Alvin looked over his shoulder and winked
at Calvert and Chester, making sure that Mike did not observe the signal.
In his impatience, he had turned his back upon them and was looking
gloomily over the stern at the foaming wake.
"I wonder if there isn't some tub along the shore that'll put out and run
us down. I hope, Captain, that whin we git back home ye'll kaap this a
secret from dad."
"And why?"
"He'll sure give me the greatest walloping of me life."
"For what reason?"
"For consoorting wid a party that run away from the finest chance in the
wurrld for a shindy. It's a sin that can be wiped out in no ither way."
"I'll explain to him," said Calvert, "that you couldn't help yourself."
"And it's mighty little difference that will make, as Terry McCarthy said
when he had the ch'ice of foighting two Tipperary byes or three
Corkonians."
"Wouldn't your father prefer to have us bring you home safe and unhurt
rather than to have your beauty battered out of you?" inquired the
detective, with a solemn visage.
Mike, who had risen to his feet and was still staring over the stern,
slowly turned and faced the questioner. Then, with an expression of
contempt, he said:
"Ye haven't the honor of an acquaintance wid me dad."