Further general discussion was abandoned, as Lieutenant Summers felt his services were needed on 213 deck. The boat was nearing Starfish Cove. Night had fallen. Another half hour would bring them in sight of the strand. Captain Folsom went with the boat’s commander to discuss campaign plans. The boys were left to themselves.
“Who do you think this mysterious man behind the operations of the liquor runners can be?” Frank asked, as they leaned in a group apart on the rail, watching the phosphorescence in the water alongside.
“I haven’t the least idea,” confessed Jack.
“Nor I,” said Bob. “Unless, after all, it is Higginbotham.”
“No,” said Frank, “Captain Folsom declares it cannot be he, that he himself is not a wealthy man, and that he probably is only an agent.”
“The little scoundrel,” exclaimed Bob. “He’s a smooth one to take in Mr. McKay like that. Dad always speaks of Mr. McKay very highly. Think of Higginbotham playing the perfect secretary to him, yet behind his back carrying on such plots as this.”
The beat of the engines began to slow down. They were stealing along as close to the shore as Lieutenant Summers dared venture with his craft. Not long before, on this same coast, although not this very spot, Eagle Boat 17 had run aground in the shallows 214 during a fog, between East Hampton and Amagansett. It behooved the Nark to proceed with caution.
The boys were in the bow now, peering ahead. Starfish Cove was very near. Ahead lay the nearer of the two horns enclosing it. Gradually the little bay opened out around the point of land, and a dark blot showed in the water. The moon had not yet risen high, but it was a Summer night and not dark.
Suddenly, from the bridge, the glare of the great searchlight carried by the Nark cut through the darkness like the stab of a sword. Lieutenant Summers directed it be played full upon the dark blot ahead, and instantly the latter stood out fully illumined. It was a sub chaser.
Smoke was coming from her funnel. She had steam up. She was preparing to depart. There were a score of figures on her deck. But what delayed her departure was the fact that she waited for a small boat, dancing across the water toward her from the shore. The latter caught full in the glare of the searchlight contained a pair of men tugging frantically at the oars, and a third seated in the stern, grasping the tiller ropes and urging the rowers to exert themselves to the utmost. He wore a cap pulled far down to obscure his features, and did not look up as did his companions when the light smote them. 215