“Quick, Mitchell, quick! Get us aboard the Betsy Anne and get her out among the fishing boats so he can’t find us. Oh, please, please hurry.”
“’Urry, is hit? ’Urry, wit blow me, hif I thought you lads wuz hin a ’urry, seeings ’ow I been a-waitin’ fer a ’our.”
“Yes, yes, but we are in a hurry,” insisted Jack as he followed Ray down the ladder and into the cockpit of the Betsy Anne.
“So are I,” said Mitchell, and after casting off the mooring he scrambled down on one foot. “So are I, fer I likes t’ go hout on t’ tide, I does.”
Just where or when Ray’s uncle had given up the chase the boys could not tell, but in spite of the wide trail of angry men and women, and overturned carts the boys had left along the water front, Vance Carroll had evidently lost them. Leastwise, he did not put in his appearance upon the long dock while the Betsy Anne was getting under way, for which Ray and Jack were truly thankful.
In ten minutes the little sloop, with Captain Eli’s green dory still trailing on behind, was scudding out toward the open sea, dodging through the fleet of fishing boats and walking away from every craft that tried to keep pace with her. And when the boys had finally regained their breath and were a little more at ease, they related to the old lobsterman their triumph in shaking the man whom Ray feared so much.
But this triumph was short-lived, for even while they were telling their story Ray paused and shaded his eyes with his hands; for back there, far across the harbor, he had caught sight of the swordfisherman’s yawl.
“Mr. Mitchell, have you got a glass? There’s his boat over yonder and I do believe they’re making sail on her. Say, do you suppose he’s found out that we are on the Betsy Anne and is getting ready to chase us? If he is, we’re lost, for the Fish Hawk can overhaul anything that carries sail, seems to me.”
“Huh, don’t be s’ sure o’ that, me ’arty,” said Old Mitchell indignantly. “T’ Betsy Hanne kin shake a leg ’erself. Which be t’ yawl ye want t’ know about. That one ower there; way, way ower ’bout a mile?”
“Yes, that’s it, over there in a line with that church steeple on shore. She’s—”