Hiram pondered an instant before answering. Then he decided on a course of action. Possibly it was a bad one, judging by the immediate results.
“Yes, they are,” he said boldly, “and if you don’t let us loose, you’ll get in trouble.”
Stonington Hunt paused irresolutely. Then he said:
“Get the sloop ready, boys. We’ll get out of here on the jump.”
A few moments later Hiram’s hands were bound and he was led on board the craft the boys had noticed lying in the creek. A plank connected it with the shore. Tubby, still groaning, was carried on board and thrown down in the bow beside Hiram.
“We’ll attend to him after a while,” said Hunt brutally; “if he’s badly wounded it’s his own fault, for meddling in other folks’ affairs.”
One of the men went below. Presently there came a sharp chug-chug, and the anchor being taken in, the sloop began to move off down the creek. As Tubby Hopkins had surmised, she had an engine. Hunt, Jim Dale and Peter Bumpus stood in the bow. Hiram leaned disconsolately against a stay, and Tubby lay at his feet on a coil of rope.
The shores slipped rapidly by, and pretty soon the creek began to widen.
Freeman Hunt was at the wheel, and from time to time Jim Dale shouted directions back at him.
“Port—port! Hard over!” or again, “Hard over! Starboard! There’s a shoal right ahead!”