The last of the boats had cleared before the youthful commodore prepared to follow.
"Let's go," she exclaimed impatiently. "We're late now. Mascola's outfit cleared two hours ago."
Leading the way she took Gregory aboard a small fishing vessel which waited at the float below. The motor started the instant their feet touched the deck and a gruff voice growled:
"We've got to go some to make the point by daybreak."
The girl nodded to the dark form at the wheel.
"You said it, Tom. Mascola's gang are mighty near down there by now."
She cast off the lines and jumped again to the boat as the little craft backed from the slip and headed down the bay. While the boat gained headway under the rapid pulse of the powerful motor, she explained:
"Got a string of nets off Long Point. Just put them out yesterday. But I've a pretty good idea we'll load up. That is unless Mascola tries to sew us up. One of his fishing captains was cruising round last night when I left the set."
"But if you had your nets out first," Gregory began.
A low laugh from the girl interrupted him. "You don't know how Mascola does business," she said. "Listen, I'll tell you. Did you ever notice them throw garbage overboard from the deck of a steamer and see one lone gull flying in her wake? The minute he squawks and swoops down to pick it up there's a hun