Although the chief looked dubious, and many of the others in the posse opined that they were wasting time, Nat finally gained his point. Three dories were found and commandeered and the little flotilla set off through the darkness toward the schooner. As they neared her the rattle of anchor chain as it was reeled home was distinctly heard. Also they could catch the sound of commands being given in low voices.
"By Hookey, they are getting her ready for sea," muttered the chief, in a surprised tone. "I guess you were right, boy. This looks very suspicious."
"We'd better give them a hail," suggested Nat.
The chief stood up in the boat, in which, beside Nat and himself, were Joe, Cal, and Ding-dong Bell.
"Schooner ahoy!" he hailed. "We want to board you!"
The reply was prompt and removed all doubts as to the character of those on board the craft.
A flash of light split the night, followed by a sharp report. Nat, who was standing upright by the chief, felt the bullet fan his ear.
"That's for a warning," came a harsh voice. "Stand clear of this schooner, or you'll get more."
But the chief of police was by no means a coward, and this answer, instead of intimidating him, aroused him to fury.
"I am chief of police of this town," he cried. "In the name of the law, I command you to lay to."