Part 7 (1/2)
”At Bayport, day before yesterday,” Joe replied. ”She tried to ram us.”
Caine looked astonished. ”What happened?”
”We pulled away from her.”
”You fellows must have a pretty good boat yourselves!”
”Who was piloting the Black Cat, Mr. Caine?” Frank asked. ”Did he wreck her?”
”I should say not! She's tied up to the dock right this minute.”
”We saw the sunken hull of a black boat off one of the islands,” Joe explained.
”Oh, yes, the poor old Queen of Spades” Mr. Caine replied. ”Too bad she was wrecked. Like to have a look at my boat?”
”We sure would!” Joe declared.
Caine obligingly led the way out on the long pier. As he walked, the old salt rambled on about the Black Cat. ”She's a fast boat, all right. Let's see-day before yesterday-that was the last day of the regatta.
Three men from San Francisco hired her.”
”Three?” Joe caught him up. ”There were only two men aboard when they tried to ram our boat.”
”Well, three hired her, but only two went out in her. Let's see-there were the Stark brothers, Ben and Fritz, I think their names were, and a third fellow-big and bald. He and Ben went out in the boat. The men said they came all the way here on their vacations, especially to see the regatta.”
”Are they still around?” Frank asked.
”They're back in California by now, I guess,” Caine replied. ”Said they were taking a plane.” He stopped at the edge of the dock and motioned downward. ”There she is,” he said proudly.
Frank and Joe found themselves looking into the same sleek, black powerboat which had nearly rammed them.
Joe stepped into the boat and looked around carefully. ”Sure they didn't leave anything behind?”
”Yep. I always clean my boats out good after people bring 'em in.”
”Well, the Black Cat sure is a nice boat,” Joe declared as he climbed back onto the dock. ”Which one of the renters was driving her? A dark fellow, with black hair combed straight back?”
”Yes,” Caine replied. ”That would be Ben Stark.”
”We reported the attack to the Coast Guard,” Frank told the manager.
”And right you were!” said Mr. Caine. ”Just let them turn up here again, and I'll have 'em arrested.”
”If you should hear anything about them, please let us know,” Frank requested, and gave his name and address.
”Glad to!” exclaimed Caine. ”Now can I give you some gas?”
”We'd better get some,” Frank replied, ”and start for home.”
By the time the boys were ready to leave, the sun was setting. Frank revved up the Sleuth's power plant and sent the craft knifing through the swells.
Soon the boys pa.s.sed out the narrow mouth of Northport harbor. Frank turned the Sleuth southward toward Bayport.
The sea was calmer than it had been during the day. On the ocean's horizon the darkness gathered slowly, and finally a few stars were beginning to push through when the coastal islands came into view on the Sleuth's starboard side.
After pa.s.sing Jagged Reef safely, Frank ran in closer to the islands. Ahead they saw a tall, limp white sail.
As the Sleuth drew nearer, the boys made out the masts and hull of a trim-looking schooner, anch.o.r.ed for the night off one of the islets.
”Nice lines,” commented Joe. ”Pa.s.s close to her, will you, Frank?”
Quietly, with her engine throttled down, the motorboat drew abreast of the larger vessel. It was now dusk and a light shone in her cabin from which came the sound of activity. Frank gazed in admiration at the tall masts and s.h.i.+pshape rigging-Suddenly Joe's fingers clutched his brother's shoulder. ”Look! On the deck!”
As the Sleuth pa.s.sed the schooner, Frank caught a quick glimpse of the figure of a boy leaning over the rail.
Joe cried out, ”That was Chet!”
CHAPTER X.
A Narrow Escape ”IT'S either Chet or his double!” Joe exclaimed. ”But I'm sure my eyes weren't playing tricks.”
”Do you suppose he's a prisoner on that schooner?” Frank asked. ”Well, we'll soon find out!”
He turned the wheel sharply and the Sleuth swung about. It circled close to the anch.o.r.ed vessel.
”Chet!” cried Joe, making a trumpet of his hands. ”Chet Morton! It's Frank and Joe! Are you all right?”
”Che-e-t!” both boys yelled together. ”Che-e-t Mo-or-ton!”
A momentary hush followed, as the Hardys paused for breath. All sounds of activity aboard the schooner ceased. Abruptly a burly sailor in white duck trousers appeared on deck.
”What's all the holler?” he barked. ”Clear out of here, or you'll get in plenty of trouble!”
As Joe stood up to retort, Frank yanked him down again. ”We should go!” he whispered. ”Let him think he scared us off.”
The Sleuth's engine roared louder, and the boat moved along the sh.o.r.e of the island until the white sails were out of sight.
”It'll be black night out here in half an hour,” Frank explained. ”Then we'll go back and see what's up.”
Daylight faded away, leaving in its place broadly sprinkled stars. A calm ocean swayed their boat gently.
Rocks along the sh.o.r.e humped up, ma.s.sive shapes in the darkness.
”Now!” Frank said softly.
Joe took the wheel and throttled the smooth-running engine so low that its sound was only a faint hum.