CHAPTER XXXI.
HOME AGAIN.
Sightwell, the lookout on the Emma, had observed, during the late stirring events, a suspicious-looking craft hovering on the outer line of the Stygian fleet. It was a yacht, apparently one of the privateers or smugglers that infested the lake. When first sighted it was hugging the shore, the side opposite the Pixie camp, as though planning a raid upon the Brownies encamped on that side of the inlet. When the Stygies had been scattered by Scaly's first onset, this yacht pushed boldly out from shore, and headed directly for the inlet, as though she would come to the rescue of her friends. In the excitement of the closing incidents in Scaly's career, Sightwell had quite forgotten the stranger; but as the Emma came to anchor, he sighted her once more. She was bearing down upon the inlet under full sail.
"Sail ho!" cried the lookout.
"Where away?" called Ask the mate.
"Dead ahead, and bearing straight down upon us."
"What do you make her out?"
"A yacht,—a smuggler, I judge. And—yes, there are two boats pulling along close under her sides!"
"That looks suspicious," said Ask. "Call the Commodore."
Just as Rodney arrived on deck Sightwell called from the fore topmast cross-trees: "Our boats are about to make an attack,—I mean the boats that first went out with Scaly and afterward turned back shoreward. They pull up cautiously to the strangers. The two boats from the yacht dash away to meet them. They are about to grapple. Hah! No! what can that mean? The men in the boats rise and swing their hats. The yachtsmen are hanging in the rigging swinging kerchiefs, scarfs, bonnets and swords; I can see the flutter of one and the flash of the other in the moonlight. Hark! they are cheering each other!"