IN STARFISH COVE AGAIN
“Sparks” as the radio operator aboard the sub chaser was known, sat down to his key at once and sent out a wireless call for all members of the “Dry Navy,” requesting information as to whether any had recovered the stolen speed boat belonging to the boys.
One by one, from their various stations along the coast, the boats responded, giving negative replies. Several hours elapsed before all had been heard from. Meantime the Nark crisscrossed and quartered the sea off Montauk Point, in search of the rumored “fleet” of liquor runners, but without success. Numerous sail were sighted as well as steamers, but the latter were all so large as to preclude in the opinion of the revenue men the possibility of their being liquor carriers, and the former never stood close enough to be examined. Nor did any assemblage of vessels sufficiently large to warrant the designation “fleet” appear. 209
Late in the day, when the low descending sun warned of the approach of nightfall, and the boys’ watches showed 7 o’clock, Lieutenant Summers again consulted with Captain Folsom, who presently rejoined the boys with word that they were going to turn back and cruise offshore and that the boys in an hour or two could be landed, not at Starfish Cove, but at their own boathouse, thus involving only a short trip afoot home for Bob.
Hardly had the boat’s course been altered, however, when “Sparks” appeared from the radio room in a state of high excitement, addressed Lieutenant Summers who was on the little bridge, and the two returned together. The wireless room originally had been the chart house. It was equipped for the employment, both sending and receiving, of wireless telegraphy and telephony.
“I wonder what is up,” said Captain Folsom to the boys, with whom he was talking in the bow. “Something has come by radio that has excited ‘Sparks.’ Excuse me, boys, a moment, while I go to inquire.”
Captain Folsom, however, had not had time to reach the radio room when Lieutenant Summers again appeared on the bridge, and beckoned both him and the boys to approach.
“I’ll explain in a moment,” he said, “as soon as I can give the necessary orders.” 210
A number of orders were delivered, and the men on deck leaped to execute them with alacrity. What their purport, was not made known, of course, but the helmsman was given a course direct for Starfish Cove and, in response to signals to the engine room for full speed ahead, the craft seemed fairly to leap through the water.
“Something has happened ashore,” said Frank, to his companions. “I wonder what it is.”
Their curiosity was soon to be satisfied. Lieutenant Summers led the way below to his cabin, and, once all five were gathered inside, he lost no time in coming to the point.
“The mystery of that sub chaser seen by the crew of the ‘Molly M’ with your speed boat in tow is in a fair way to be solved,” he said. “Also, I have high hopes of catching the ringleader of the liquor smugglers whom Captain Folsom and I have been seeking.”
“What? What’s that?” demanded Captain Folsom, excitedly.
Lieutenant Summers nodded.
“You couldn’t imagine in a thousand years where the radio call came from,” he declared, “nor what it was all about. Well, I’ll not attempt to mystify you any further. The call was from one of the guards I left posted at the Brownell place, and he was calling, 211 not from the Brownell radio station, but from yours, Hampton.”
“From our station?”
Jack was puzzled.
“What’s the matter with his own?” asked Frank.
“Our guards have been captured by raiders dressed in naval uniform who disembarked from a sub chaser,” said Lieutenant Summers, exploding his bombshell. “Only one man escaped. And he made his way to your station, Hampton, found your man, Tom Barnum, there and began calling for me.”
The eyes of the three boys shone, as the implication reached them. The smugglers evidently had obtained possession of a sub chaser and wearing U. S. naval uniforms had carried out a bold coup d’etat, although for what purpose could not be seen at the time. It looked as if there were a fair prospect of action, and all were excited in consequence.
Captain Folsom, however, began hunting at once for causes.
“But why in the world should such a move have been carried out?” he demanded. “Of course, I take it the smugglers have obtained a sub chaser somewhere, together with uniforms. Yet why should they seek to recapture the Brownell place? They could not hope to hold it.”
Lieutenant Summers shook his head. 212
“It’s too much for me,” he declared. “It’s a mystery, indeed. But I am not going to puzzle over that phase of the matter now. What I am interested in is in getting on the ground.”
Frank, who had been lost in thought, spoke up unexpectedly.
“Captain Folsom,” he said, “isn’t it pretty certain such a move would not be carried out except by a man high in the councils of the smugglers?”
“I should imagine so.”
“And he would not run the risk of discovery and capture without some very good cause?”
“True.”
“Then,” said Frank, “is it possible his reason for this act is to drive the guards away or take them prisoner in order to obtain temporary possession of the house and remove incriminating papers—perhaps, from some secret repository—which the smugglers failed to take away or destroy when Lieutenant Summers captured the place last week?”
The others were silent a few moments. Then Captain Folsom said:
“Perhaps, you are correct. Certainly, your theory is plausible. And it would account for such a rash step being taken, by the smugglers.”
Further general discussion was abandoned, as Lieutenant Summers felt his services were needed on 213 deck. The boat was nearing Starfish Cove. Night had fallen. Another half hour would bring them in sight of the strand. Captain Folsom went with the boat’s commander to discuss campaign plans. The boys were left to themselves.
“Who do you think this mysterious man behind the operations of the liquor runners can be?” Frank asked, as they leaned in a group apart on the rail, watching the phosphorescence in the water alongside.
“I haven’t the least idea,” confessed Jack.
“Nor I,” said Bob. “Unless, after all, it is Higginbotham.”
“No,” said Frank, “Captain Folsom declares it cannot be he, that he himself is not a wealthy man, and that he probably is only an agent.”
“The little scoundrel,” exclaimed Bob. “He’s a smooth one to take in Mr. McKay like that. Dad always speaks of Mr. McKay very highly. Think of Higginbotham playing the perfect secretary to him, yet behind his back carrying on such plots as this.”
The beat of the engines began to slow down. They were stealing along as close to the shore as Lieutenant Summers dared venture with his craft. Not long before, on this same coast, although not this very spot, Eagle Boat 17 had run aground in the shallows 214 during a fog, between East Hampton and Amagansett. It behooved the Nark to proceed with caution.
The boys were in the bow now, peering ahead. Starfish Cove was very near. Ahead lay the nearer of the two horns enclosing it. Gradually the little bay opened out around the point of land, and a dark blot showed in the water. The moon had not yet risen high, but it was a Summer night and not dark.
Suddenly, from the bridge, the glare of the great searchlight carried by the Nark cut through the darkness like the stab of a sword. Lieutenant Summers directed it be played full upon the dark blot ahead, and instantly the latter stood out fully illumined. It was a sub chaser.
Smoke was coming from her funnel. She had steam up. She was preparing to depart. There were a score of figures on her deck. But what delayed her departure was the fact that she waited for a small boat, dancing across the water toward her from the shore. The latter caught full in the glare of the searchlight contained a pair of men tugging frantically at the oars, and a third seated in the stern, grasping the tiller ropes and urging the rowers to exert themselves to the utmost. He wore a cap pulled far down to obscure his features, and did not look up as did his companions when the light smote them. 215
There was excitement among those on deck of the strange sub chaser. Men ran here and there, as if undirected, not knowing what to do.
“He’s running away,” cried Frank, suddenly. “Look. In the small boat.”
He pointed. True enough, the man at the tiller had swung her about for shore, and the rowers were bending their backs as they sent her along on the opposite course. Moreover, a few strokes more would interpose the strange sub chaser between her and the Nark, and whoever was aboard would escape.
It was a time for quick action. Lieutenant Summers was equal to the occasion. Unknown to the boys, he had ordered the three pounder unlimbered, and now sent a shot ricochetting so close to the small boat that the oarsmen were spattered by the spray and the boat rocked violently. Nevertheless, exhorted by their commander, the rowers, who had ceased at first, bent anew to their oars. Another moment, and they were under the stern of the strange vessel and temporarily safe from danger of shot.
Jack, who had been watching developments breathlessly, ran to the bridge, and called:
“May I make a suggestion, sir?”
“What is it?” asked Lieutenant Summers.
“Whoever is in that boat is heading for the other horn of land enclosing the cove,” said Jack, speaking 216 rapidly. “He will land far out on a narrow peninsula. If we send a boat ashore, on a tangent, we can strike the base of the peninsula in time to cut off his escape by land.”
“Good,” cried Lieutenant Summers. “I’ll order the boat out at once. Do you go in it and point the way.”