Part 11 (1/2)

”What boat is that?”

”Dispatch boat,” answered Ned, prompted by Frank; ”and we bring orders for you to pull down and join the fleet, which is now blockading the mouth of Glen's Creek.”

”All right,” answered the voice. ”We've been waiting an hour for that order. This playing police is dull business.”

And the smugglers heard the rattling of a chain, as if the anchor was being pulled up.

”Tell them to make haste,” whispered Frank.

”Come, hurry up there, now,” shouted Ned.

”Ay, ay,” was the answer.

And, in a few moments, the Sampson, propelled by four oars, shot past them, on her way down the creek.

”That's what I call pretty well done,” said Ben, as soon as the coast-guards were out of hearing.

”I don't,” said Ned. ”It goes against me to fool a fellow in that way; and my own friends, too.”

The smugglers now continued on their way, and a few strong pulls brought them within a short distance of the mouth of Ducks' Creek; and Frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat's head toward the sh.o.r.e, and, as soon as her keel touched the bottom, he and Ben sprang out, leaving Harry to watch the prisoner.

They had landed upon Reynard's Island, and immediately started for the opposite side, to learn, if possible, what was going on upon the river. Every thing was as silent as midnight; and the smugglers were obliged to move very carefully, for the slightest sound--the snapping of a twig or the rustling of a leaf--could be heard at a long distance. After proceeding a quarter of a mile in this cautious manner, they reached the opposite side of the island.

”Well,” said Ben, after trying in vain to peer through the darkness, ”how do matters stand? I wonder if we could not have slipped by their police, and reached the island, before they knew it?”

”No, sir,” said Frank, ”not by a good deal. We should certainly have been captured.”

”How do you know? I can't see any thing.”

”Neither can I; but listen, and you will _hear_ something. They are taking their positions.”

The boys remained silent, and the suppressed murmur of voices, the strokes of m.u.f.fled oars, and, now and then, a gentle splas.h.i.+ng in the water, as of an anchor dropped carefully overboard, could be distinctly heard.

”I am still of the opinion,” said Ben, ”that we could run the blockade before they could catch us.”

”And I still think that we should get caught,” said Frank. ”If we should attempt to hoist a sail, it could be heard across the river; besides, there is no breeze.”

”Then, try the oars.”

”They would overtake us before we had gone twenty rods. You must remember that they outnumber us, six to one, and could easily tire us out, or cut us off from the island. Wait until the breeze springs up, and then we will see what we can do.”

”Listen,” whispered Ben, suddenly; ”some of the boats are coming down this way. They are sending a division of the fleet to guard Ducks'

Creek.”

And so it proved. The slow, measured strokes of oars came nearer and nearer, and, finally, the tall, raking masts of three of the swiftest-sailing boats in the squadron could be dimly seen moving down the river toward the creek. As they approached, the smugglers discovered that two boys, in a light skiff, led the way, and one of them, who proved to be Charles Sheldon, pointed out the position he wished each boat to occupy. The places a.s.signed them were not directly opposite the mouth of the creek, but a little up the river, and about twenty feet from the sh.o.r.e; and this, afterward, proved to be a very favorable circ.u.mstance for the smugglers.

”Now, boys,” said Charles, after he had placed the little vessels to his satisfaction, ”keep a good look-out up the river.”

”I should think,” said the captain of the division ”that you ought to have us anchor directly in the mouth of the creek. We shall have a good stiff breeze before long, and the Alert might slip out at any time, and, before we could hoist a sail, she would be half-way across the river.”