The surmise was correct. The boat swung about in a circle, her nose pointed straight for the entrance to the creek eventually, and then they began speeding shoreward again.
A powerful beam of light suddenly shot over their heads, and the boys turned with a gasp. It came from the searchlight mounted on the bridge behind them. They gazed ahead, and saw the light illumine the entrance to the creek. Then something appeared in the rays which caused them to shout simultaneously:
“The trawler.”
There it was, the boat on which they had been carried captive from San Francisco, riding at anchor in the cove.
Ensign Warwick approached.
“I decided not to take a chance on running into any craft inside without warning,” he said. “That’s why I turned on the searchlight. I cannot see a soul aboard the trawler. Can you?”
“Not I,” answered Bob.
“Nor I.”
“Nor I.”
“Well, I’m going to board her. We’ll soon find out how matters stand.”