“The bird’s flown, Jim,” said one policeman to another.
“Hullo!” said the purser. “What’s that in the berth?”
He picked up a dress, skirt, and hat. Ruth and Helen remembered that they were like those that the strange looking girl had worn. One of the policemen dived under the berth and brought forth a pair of high, fancy, laced shoes.
“He’s dumped his disguise here,” growled an officer. “Either he went ashore before the boat sailed, or he’s in his proper clothes again. Say! it would take us all night, Jim, to search this steamer.”
“And we’re not authorized to go to the Capes with her,” said the policeman who had been addressed as Jim. “We’d better go back and report, and let the inspector telegraph to Old Point a full description. Maybe the dicks there can nab the lad.”
The stateroom door was closed but could not be locked again. The purser and policemen went away, and the girls ran out on deck to see the police officers go down the ladder and into the launch.
They all did this without accident. Then the rope ladder was cast off and the launch chugged away, turning back toward the distant city.
The steamer had now passed Romer Light and Sandy Hook and was through the Ambrose Channel. The Scotland Lightship, courtesying to the rising swell, was just ahead. Ruth and Helen had never seen a lightship before and they were much interested in this drab, odd looking, short-masted vessel on which a crew lived month after month, and year after year, with only short respites ashore.
“I should think it would be dreadfully lonely,” Helen said, with reflection. “Just to tend the lights—and the fish, perhaps—eh?”
“I don’t suppose they have dances or have people come to afternoon tea,” giggled Ruth. “What do you expect?”