Almost as soon as his feet came in contact with the sloping shore of the south arm, he heard shouts of laughter coming across the wooded stretch of land between the lagoon and the main channel of the river. Proceeding on as rapidly as was possible in the darkness, he soon came to a position from which he could see the lights of the steamer. She was standing perfectly still some distance down the stream from the mouth of the lagoon, and the tug and barges seemed to have halted, too.
Directly he saw lights flashing along the barges and heard exclamations of anger and dismay from the front ranks. Then he saw what had taken place. The crew of the tow had paid too much attention to whiskey and too little to navigation.
The front line had grounded at a bend just below, and the others were piling against them. Even with his limited knowledge of river work, the boy saw that it would be hours before the barges could be towed off the bar. A good many of the men supposed to be in charge of the tow were still drinking on board the saloon boat.
“That’s always the way with whiskey,” Alex said. “It jumps into the places where it can make the most trouble. “If I ever take a drink of the stuff, I hope I’ll get five years for every drop I swallow. A person who drinks whiskey is no good, anyway, and might as well be in prison as anywhere else.”
There was now a great commotion on board the steamer, and the boy saw that those in charge of the tow were forcing their unruly employes back to their duty. Directly the steamer anchored a short distance up the river. The barges which were grounded were detached from the main tow, and the whole mass went swinging down the river again, followed by shouts of laughter from the steamer.
“Now,” mused the boy, “I wonder whether that pirate boat will keep on after the tow in order to get what little money those poor fools have left, or whether it will be kept here in the hope of annexing the Rambler?”
The question was answered in a moment, for the steamer edged in close to the shore and threw out an anchor.
“That’s fine!” Alex muttered. “Now they’ll be running over this island to find the Rambler, caught like a rat in a trap. I’m glad they haven’t got sense enough to run up and block the lagoon!”
The lights of the steamer made a fair illumination on the bank where Alex lay, and directly he saw a boat put out and head for the very thicket which concealed him. He crept softly back toward the interior and waited for developments. When the boat touched the shore two men stepped out and pressed through the thicket toward the lagoon.
“This is foolishness,” the boy heard one of the men say. “I tell you, Bostock,” he went on, “that the motor boat made the north passage and went on down the river while we were fooling with that tow crowd.”