“Just what,” retorted Captain Halstead, springing up on deck and bringing the marine glass to bear. “One, two, three—say, they’re putting eight men over the side to man that boat. They’re going to send that hard-looking crowd to board us.”
“What for?” demanded Moddridge, beginning to tremble.
“They think our engine has broken down temporarily. They’re going to board us and finish the job by putting our engine out of business for good,” laughed Tom Halstead, happily.
“I—I—er—I can’t quite see where we gain by that,” quaked the nervous financier.
“Keep your eyes open, then,” begged Halstead, as he continued to watch the strangers. The boat, with its eight men, was coming across the waters as fast as four lusty rowers could send it. Hank performed a few more frantic rushes in and out of the engine room during the minutes that the boat’s crew used in getting near the “Rocket.”
“Keep off!” hailed Tom, mockingly, when the small boat was within three hundred feet.
No reply came from the boat’s crew. They were sullenly silent. Halstead could see no signs of weapons among them. Suddenly the young skipper sprang to the speed-ahead deck control of the engine, giving it a whirl. Then, instantly, he laid hands on the wheel. The “Rocket” forged ahead once more, while angry oaths burst from the lips of the men in the small boat, almost alongside. But the motor boat shot on her way, leaving the small boat’s crew helplessly in the lurch.
Giving a wide sweep to the helm, Tom brought about, heading straight for the distant schooner. Those in the small boat followed at only a fraction of the speed.
“Why, what are you up to, now?” demanded Eben Moddridge, his eyes wide and almost bulging.
“Going to board the schooner before that boat’s crew has a chance to get back,” replied Captain Tom, his eyes gleaming brightly. “If Mr. Delavan is aboard we’ll get him. There are only three men left on the schooner, and the ‘Rocket’s’ crew numbers three.”