Svenson, cursing, had to yield to the power of Uncle Sam, which even he dared not refuse to honor. But he and Barrows both swore that they had seen nothing of Jim Phillips, and that he was certainly not then on board. They seemed willing, even eager, for a search to be made, and the search was begun at once, with no ceremony.
But, as it went on, and Barrows and Svenson, with puzzled, but triumphant looks, followed the Yale men and the officers around, it became plain that it was bound to be fruitless. Svenson and Barrows, as a matter of fact, had been over the whole ship, as they thought, for themselves. They had searched everywhere on the Marina that seemed to offer a possible hiding place, and when the party finally came on deck again, the searchers had to apologize to the captain and the offended Barrows, who talked largely of suits for damages, until Brady stepped up to him with a scowling face.
“That’ll be about all from you,” said Bill menacingly. “You may have fooled us this time, but we know that Phillips was aboard this ship, and we’re going to get him. When we do, you’d better look out for yourself. And, if you’ve injured him, or done away with him, the earth won’t be big enough to keep me from seeing that you’re punished, if it takes a million dollars to find you.”
Slowly, angrily, the Yale men and Neilson, with the two deputy marshals, who seemed to think that they had been brought on a fool’s errand, went over the side and into the launch.
“Looks like checkmate,” said Neilson gloomily. “I hope those scoundrels haven’t hurt Phillips. I say, Merriwell, suppose we postpone the race, anyhow? I don’t feel like going through with it while things are in this state.”
“That’s a last resort,” said Dick gravely. “There are an awful lot of people here, Neilson, and some of them have come a long way just for this day. It seems pretty rough on them. Let’s wait a little while, anyhow.”
Suddenly there was a tremendous commotion on the deck of the Marina. A man had run up to Svenson and told him something that sent the big skipper, cursing wildly, in his native Norse tongue, rushing below, and, at the same time, Dick, accustomed as he was to shipping, saw that something was very seriously wrong with the schooner. She was settling by the head.
“She’s sinking!” he cried.
Fascinated, they watched for a moment the scene of wild disorder on her decks. There was no danger for any one on board, for she was going down slowly, and there was plenty of time for all to leave her. But the spectacle was remarkable. The crowded harbor was surely a strange setting for such a wreck.
“They oughtn’t to let her sink out here,” cried Merriwell. “She’ll block navigation.”