“He couldn’t stop us now if he wanted to,” said Mack, as he returned aboard and the Idlewild filled away for the bay, “for there are no telegraph offices outside, and if we see a tug after us, we’ll hide from her. But the superintendent can’t say that I didn’t keep him posted, can he?”
The pursuing vessel had a much better crew than the Sylph—of the twenty-three boys aboard of her there were an even dozen who could go aloft and stand their trick at the wheel—and if she had once come in sight of the deserters, she would have overhauled them in short order; but the trouble was to get on the track of them. There was a good deal of territory in the bay—it was about a hundred miles long and half as wide—and there were many good hiding-places to be found among the numerous islands that were scattered about in it. For five days they sailed about from point to point, but could gain no tidings of Enoch and his crowd. The island farmers, of whom they made inquiries, declared that Captain Mack and his squad were the only academy boys who had been seen on the bay that summer. If the deserters had left the corn-fields and melon-patches alone, their pursuers might not have been able to get on their track at all; but one irate truck-gardener, whom they had despoiled of nearly a cart-load of fine watermelons which were in prime condition for the Oxford market, gave them the needed information, and after that their work was easy. They traced the Sylph from island to island, gaining on her every hour, and would have overhauled her before the close of the day on which the storm came up, had they not been obliged to seek a safe anchorage from the gale.
During the night of the blow the little vessels were not more than five miles apart. The Idlewild made the earlier start, and if the Sylph had remained in the cove an hour longer she would have been captured there, for it was Egan’s intention to coast along the lee-shore of that very island. As it was, he did not catch sight of the object of his search until she rounded the promontory and stood up the bay. Then all was excitement on the Idlewild’s deck.
“Hold her to it, Burgess,” said Egan to the boy at the wheel. “The Sylph’s got the weather-gauge of us now, but we can soon gain the wind of her. At any rate we’ll make her captain show what he’s made of. Go aloft, a couple of you, and we’ll set the topsails.”
“Are you going to lay us alongside of her?” asked Burgess.
“Not in this sea,” replied Egan. “We’ll keep her company until she gets into smooth water, and then we’ll bounce her. What do you see, Gordon?” he added, addressing himself to Bert who was gazing steadily at something through the glass.
“I never saw a wreck,” replied Bert, handing the glass to Egan, “but if that isn’t one, tossing about on the waves just ahead of the Sylph, I’d like to know what it is.”
Egan looked, and an exclamation indicative of the profoundest astonishment fell from his lips. It was a wreck, sure enough, said all the boys, as the glass was passed rapidly from hand to hand, and there were people on it, too. Now what was to be done?
“Stow the topsails and lay down from aloft,” commanded Egan. “We don’t want any more canvas on her until we have taken care of those castaways.”