Part 36 (1/2)

”Help me! Don't leave me behind!”

”Great Caesar!” gasped Sam. ”Tom's overboard!”

”Down with the mainsail!” roared Harris.

”How did he fall over the side?”

”He tried to jump to the other boat,” said d.i.c.k, who had seen the action. ”I was just thinking of doing it myself.”

With all possible speed the big sheet of the _Searchlight_ was lowered, and then they turned as fast as the wind would permit, to the spot where unlucky Tom was bobbing up and down on the swells like a peanut sh.e.l.l.

”Catch the line!” cried d.i.c.k, and let fly with a life preserver attached to a fair-sized rope. His aim was a good one, and soon Tom was being hauled aboard again with all possible speed.

”Oh, what a mess I made of it!” he panted when he could catch his breath. ”I'm not fit to hunt jack rabbits.”

”It's lucky you weren't run down by the yacht and killed,” said d.i.c.k. ”I was going to jump, but when I saw you go down I thought better of it.”

Ten minutes of precious time had been lost, and now the _Flyaway_ was once more far in the distance. She was heading for sh.o.r.e, and soon the oncoming darkness hid her from view.

”Now what's to be done?” questioned Sam.

”She'll slip us sure.”

”She can't go very far,” answered Harris. ”The water-line around here is rather dangerous in the dark.”

”Is that a storm coming up?” asked d.i.c.k.

”I wouldn't be surprised.”

With care they continued on their way, taking the course they surmised their enemies had pursued.

”There is some kind of land!” cried Sam, who was on the watch.

”What place is that, Harris?”

”Becker's Cove, so they call it,” answered the old tar. ”It's not far from Staten Island.”

”Do you think they came in here?”

”If they did I reckon they calculate to stay over night.”

”Why?”

”Because they'll want a pilot otherwise. It's rather dangerous sailing about here--especially in the dark.”

Five minutes later found them close to sh.o.r.e, and the sails were lowered and the anchor cast out.

”I'm going to land,” said d.i.c.k, and, after a consultation, it was decided that he should take Sam with him, leaving Tom and Martin Harris to keep watch from the yacht. If either party discovered anything, a double whistle twice repeated was to notify the others.

Now that Dan Baxter had actually opened fire on them, d.i.c.k wished he had a firearm of some sort. But none was at hand, nor did he know where to obtain such a thing in that vicinity, and the best he and Sam could do was to cut themselves clubs out of some brush growing not far from the sh.o.r.e line.

The spot at which they had landed was by no means an inviting one. It looked like a bit of dumping and meadow ground, and not far away rested the remains of half a dozen partly decayed ca.n.a.l boats which the tide had washed up high in the bogs years before.