“Force of habit,” replied Captain Tom, with a smile.
He ran the “Rocket” up parallel with the schooner, shutting down speed considerably. There was now a distance of barely five hundred feet between the two craft. The crew of the schooner lined up at her port rail, surveying the “Rocket” and those aboard, but no hail was passed between the two craft.
“They’re not allowing Mr. Delavan the freedom of the deck, anyway,” declared Tom. He now ran the “Rocket” a little further to the northward, every eye on the schooner’s deck following the manœuvre.
“Joe, shut off speed jerkily,” ordered the young skipper, by the time the two craft were almost a mile apart. “Shut off as though something were happening to our engine.”
“Why—er—what——” began Eben Moddridge, hesitatingly, as Joe vanished below after turning the wheel over to his chum.
“I’m going to try the value of putting up a marine job on those fellows yonder,” replied Halstead, very quietly.
Eben Moddridge asked no more questions, though there was a most wondering look in his eyes. The “Rocket’s” speed began to dwindle.
“Hank,” called Tom, “get up and rush about, into the engine room and out. Mr. Moddridge, show all the excitement you can yourself. That ought to be easy,” the young captain added, under his breath.
“Why—why—why——” came from the nervous one.
“Act as though our engine had broken down, and we were simply crazy over our luck.”