“There, now we’ll see if they are following us, or whether they are just on the same course by accident, and are using us for pace-makers,” remarked the captain, as he came back to where the boys were.
In less than a minute the course of the pursuing vessel was also changed, and on she came, after the Modoc, the black smoke pouring from her funnel, testifying to the fact that the engine room force was piling on the fuel to make more steam.
“She’s going to catch us or burst her boilers,” remarked the captain, with a grim smile. “Well, we’ll see. I made them show their hand. They evidently believe we’re bound for the Canadian shore, and they think they have us outside the protection of the United States now, and can do as they please.”
He hurried to the pilot house, and soon there were several signals of the engine room bells.
“We’ll see if we can’t get a few more knots out of her,” observed the commander as he came back, and took a hurried look at the yacht astern. “I guess the Modoc has some speed left in her yet, even if she is only a freighter.”
True, the big steamer did go faster, but so did the pursuing boat. The chase was leading straight toward Canada now.
“Can’t seem to shake ’em off,” murmured the captain, with a somewhat worried look on his face. “I’ve a good notion to lay-to, and see what they want.”
“I—I wouldn’t,” said Fenn.
“Why not?” asked the captain quickly. “You haven’t done anything wrong; have you?”
“No, but—”