Alec cast loose from the piling and made his way down the river. He hugged the shore, for he knew that his little boat could never be seen if he kept close to the tall reeds that grew in dense masses along the bank. There was enough wind blowing to drive the Osprey at a good pace, but Alec dared not hoist his sail. So he sculled the boat slowly along, ever on the alert. He knew that the Shark was anchored in the second reach. But he was well through this reach before he could make up his mind whether the oyster-boat still lay there or not. So dark was the night that he could see absolutely nothing of her. Suddenly he heard a great voice bawling profanely at some one, and he knew the Shark was still there. Quickly came the creak of tackle-blocks. The sail was going up. Then he heard the clanking of a capstan, though evidently the sound had been muffled in some way. But it told him all he needed to know. The Shark was lifting her anchor. She was going to sail. Was she heading for the oyster grounds?
For a single moment Alec hesitated. Then, "I'll do it!" he muttered between clenched teeth, and he stepped to the halyards and cautiously hoisted his own sail. "If I can't see their big sail," he reasoned, "they surely can't see my little one." Then he went back to the cockpit, took the tiller in his hand and started in pursuit of the oyster pirates.
From time to time he could hear sounds on the boat ahead of him, but gradually these grew so faint that he knew the Shark was outdistancing him. So he drew away from the bank and stood out boldly into the middle of the river. As yet he had caught not a single glimpse of the Shark, and he knew his own presence was utterly unsuspected. But the men on the Shark were sharp-eyed and it would not take them long to discover him if the night grew lighter. And to Alec it seemed as though it were becoming lighter. Perhaps that was because his eyes were growing so accustomed to the dark. He did not like to think what might happen to him if he fell into the hands of these men, so far away from any other human beings. If they should harm him—he did not like even to think of the word murder—he might never be able to warn the shipper about the intended theft of his oysters. Now Alec saw that he had been unwise in trying to trail these desperate men without first telling the shipper.
"I'll call him at once," said Alec. And again he hesitated. "What shall I tell him?" he asked himself. "Wouldn't the captain be angry if I got him out here and this proved to be only a wild-goose chase? I'll just wait until I have something definite to tell him."
On he drove down the river. Afar off winked the range-lights. Off his port bow East Point Light was gleaming. But no other lights of any sort shone through the darkness ahead of him. No ship of any kind was riding the waves before him except the pirate Shark—unless other ships, too, might be running illegally without lights, endangering both themselves and all other craft, even as Alec himself was doing. But there were worse dangers than collisions to think of now, and Alec bent his entire attention to the problem of locating the Shark.
Unmistakably now he saw the cloud-rack above was becoming thinner. Once, for a single moment, he caught the gleam of a star. Then it vanished instantly. On went the Osprey. Only with the greatest difficulty could Alec make out the bank of the stream. Yet he managed to keep in the current and avoid running aground.
Presently Alec knew by the action of the boat that he was coming into the broad estuary of the river. The Osprey began to heave just the slightest bit. From the position of East Point Light Alec judged he must be about over the bar. Ahead of him now lay only leagues and leagues of tossing water. Gone was the protection of the reedy banks. He would have to look sharp now if he was to escape detection.
Hardly had the thought entered Alec's mind, when for a single instant he was certain he saw the Shark. Something white loomed ahead of him, then the darkness swallowed it up again. But Alec had no doubt it was the Shark. Glad, indeed, was Alec now that the Osprey was painted a leaden gray. "If only my sail was gray, too," thought Alec. "Fortunately it's so old and dirty that it's almost gray. I don't believe they'll ever see me."
He wondered what time it was. Stepping inside the cabin, he flashed his light for a second on the clock. "Almost ten," he muttered. "I must get ready to talk with Elsa."
He stepped forward and dropped his little anchor. Then he let the Osprey swing round until she was headed into the wind and tugging smartly at her anchor cable. The sail flapped gently in the breeze. Alec looked sharply toward every quarter of the compass, and seeing nothing alarming, went into the cabin and sat down at his instrument.