“It’s odd that our two vessels should be the only ones in sight,” remarked Mrs. Tremaine, as the race continued down the Florida coast.
“There isn’t a heap of commerce on this side of Florida,” Halstead answered. “As like as not we’ll not sight another craft all afternoon.”
In another hour the distance between the two motor boats was less than two and a half miles. Joe eased up just a trifle more, then came on deck, his eyes glowing.
“The ‘Buzzard’s’ engineer didn’t take all the care of his motors that he ought to have done at the start,” guessed Dawson. “Now he’s sorry, I reckon.”
“Have you a little time to spare, Joe?” queried Halstead, who did not quit the wheel.
“Get the code book and the signal bunting. Have Jeff help you rig up a signal, and hoist it to the head of the signal mast.”
“What signal?” queried the young engineer.
“Signal: ‘Lie to. We are after criminal on your vessel.’”
For some moments Joe ran through the pages of the code book. Then he selected the signal flags, while Jeff Randolph fastened them to a halyard in the proper order.