Part 25 (1/2)

”Nothing; not a click by way of answer,” Joe Dawson responded. ”I had half a hope that I might be able to pick up a s.h.i.+p that could relay back to another, and so on to New York. If that had happened, I was going to ask the companies direct, in New York, when their next boats would leave port. I'll do that, if I get a chance. I'm bound to know when to look for the next Rio boat.”

”If this fog seems likely to last,” resumed Halstead, ”I've been thinking about increasing to ten miles and keeping right on toward New York.”

”Bully!” enthused Dawson. ”Fine!”

”Yes; so I thought at first, but I have changed my mind. If we get wholly out of these waters we might put a messenger aboard a steams.h.i.+p bound for Rio Janeiro, and then Dalton, by hanging about in these waters, might find a chance to board. If he suspected our messenger--and it may be you or I--it might be the same old Clodis incident all over again.”

Joe's face lengthened.

”It's growing wearing, to hang about here all the time,” he complained. ”I'm near to having operator's cramp, as it is.”

”Don't you dare!” Skipper Tom warned him.

”Well, then, I won't,” agreed Dawson.

For four hours more the ”Restless” continued nearly due north, at the same original speed of six miles an hour. Halstead began to think of putting back, slowly retracing his course. Joe went down for his regular hourly ”sit” at the sending table.

”Hurrah!” yelled Dawson, emerging from the motor room several minutes later.

He was waving a paper and appeared highly excited.

”Picked up anything?” called Tom Halstead, eagerly.

”Yes, sirree!” uttered Joe, delightedly, thrusting a paper into his chum's hand. ”The Jepson freight liner, 'Glide,' is making an extra trip out of schedule. Here's her position, course and gait. We ought to be up to her within two and a half hours.”

Tom himself took the news to Powell Seaton. That gentleman, on hearing the word, leaped from the lower berth in the port stateroom.

”Glorious!” he cried, his eyes gleaming feverishly as he hustled into an overcoat.

Then he whispered, in a lower voice:

”Tom Halstead, you're--you're--It!”

”Eh?” demanded the young motor boat skipper.

”You'll take the papers on to Rio!”

A gleam lit up Halstead's eyes. Yet, in another instant he felt a sense of downright regret. He was not afraid of any dangers that the trip might involve, but he hated the thought of being weeks away from this staunch, trim little craft of which he was captain and half-owner.

”All right, sir,” he replied, though without enthusiasm. ”I'll undertake it--I'll go to Rio for you.”

CHAPTER XVII

WHEN THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB BOYS ”WENT DAFFY”

All this had been spoken in whispers. Both Mr. Seaton and Tom Halstead were keenly aware of the presence of the prisoner in the starboard stateroom.

”You don't seem as overjoyed as I thought you might be,” observed Powell Seaton, in a tone of disappointment.

”I'm going through for you, sir, and I'll deliver the papers into the proper hands, if I live,” replied Tom Halstead.