"I am not on a stolen yacht, and I do not mean that you shall take possession of it unless you have the right to do so. This yacht belongs to me. I bought it and paid for it with good money, and I mean to hold it. If you really are Sheriff Ulmer, which I am inclined to doubt, you have been deceived by that rascal in the bow of the launch. He holds a worthless bill of sale of this boat, which, if it is not a forgery, was made out by a crazy man who did not own the boat at the time."
"It's a lie!" snarled Flynn. "The bill of sale is all right, and we're going to take that yacht!"
"You will have to fight for her, if you do!"
"If you fight, you fool, you will go to jail. There is a first-class jail in Rockland, too."
"I'll take my chances of going to jail. Keep off! This is a fair warning."
By this time the launch was close to the yacht, and the faces of all the persons in the small boat could be seen
and studied. Wat Snell was pale, and it was plain he did not relish his position. With the fellow who claimed to be sheriff was a hang-dog looking chap who looked like a fighter. The man who was running the launch acted as if he had no intention of taking any part in the fight, if one should occur. It was plain he had been hired to set the others on board the White Wings, and he did not mean to do anything more than that.
"Hans!" called Frank, "take the wheel and hold her steady as she is. You will get out of the scrimmage, and I want to have a hand in that."
Hans took the wheel, and Frank prepared to take a hand in the repulse if the enemy tried to board.
The man in the launch who had claimed to be sheriff stood up and waved his clinched fist above his head.