Part 19 (1/2)

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-m.u.f.fled figures, looking nearly identical, and each of the pair carrying a bag, appeared on deck amids.h.i.+ps, 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 m.u.f.fled 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 b.u.t.ts, 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 m.u.f.fled men that went ash.o.r.e 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 amids.h.i.+ps.

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!”

CHAPTER XIII

TOM HALSTEAD--READY!

There was no time to raise the anchor. Even had this been possible, it would have been out of the question to get the motors started and running in time to get out of the Drab's way.