"Sail, ho!"
"Where away?" demanded Allen, in true nautical fashion.
"Dead ahead. There she is or I'm a candidate for Davy Jones's locker! Put after her, boys!"
It was comparatively easy, for the wind had died out—the calm before a storm, and as the schooner had no "kicker," or small gasoline engine, as had some of the clammers, she was soon overhauled.
That she was at least the one which had been anchored out in the bay was evident, for Tin-Back recognized her at once. Also it was evident that no visitors were desired, for, as the Pocohontas came up alongside the almost motionless sailing craft, an ugly face looked over the low rail, and a gruff voice cried:
"That'll do, now. Keep off or you'll get into trouble! What do you want, anyhow?"
"You know well enough what we want!" cried Allen. "Up on deck, boys! We've got 'em just where we want 'em. There's your man, officer!" he called. It was pure "bluff," but it seemed to have its effect, for the man who had given the warning drew back.
"What is it?" demanded some one else, coming up out of the cabin.
"Oh, some fresh guys——"
"Come on, fellows!" Allen called loudly. He had leaped out on the forward deck of the motor boat. Mollie had been urged to stay in the little cabin, and did so. But it was evident there was to be no serious trouble—at least just yet.