“Have you any legal right to take our passenger from us?”
“You’re in Florida waters, and we have Florida peace officers on board, who seek a thief,” Halstead responded. “The water’s smooth enough; shall we run alongside of you, instead of lowering a boat?”
“Yes, if you can do it without scratching our paint,” came the assent from the “Buzzard.”
“Do you take us for lubbers, after winning such a stiff race from you?” retorted Captain Halstead, ironically. “Look out, then. We’re going to range up alongside and board you.”
Jeff sped along the port rail, throwing over the fenders. Then the two motor craft bumped gently together. A deck-hand appeared on the other craft.
“Throw us your bow line, and take our stern line,” requested the young motor boat captain.
These lines, fore and aft, were soon secured. Then the two Tampa policemen crossed to the other boat, followed by Henry Tremaine. Tom and Joe brought up the rear, leaving Jeff Randolph on the bridge deck of the “Restless.”
“Your man is locked in the cabin,” announced the skipper of the “Buzzard,” a man of fifty. “I’ll unlock the door for you.”
“When this had been done the two Tampa policeman descended first.
“You’re our prisoner, Dixon,” declared one of the officers.