But Alec did not understand that it was the shipper who wanted him to come back. "I can't come back now," he flashed. "But I will the minute I get the evidence we need. Good-bye, and please stand by."
"Alec," came the answer, "please come back. Your guardian commands you to come back."
"I've got to save your father's oysters," flashed Alec. "Please stand by."
"I'll stand by until I know you are safe. Please, please, come back."
There was no answer, and Elsa knew that her comrade was sailing out into the darkness, possibly to his death. With clenched hands and chalky face she sat tense, listening, listening, listening, but no word came singing in her ears. She could only sit and hope—and fear.
Out on the black waters of the Bay, meantime, Alec was driving his little vessel hot on the heels of the oyster pirates. With the utmost caution he lifted and stowed his anchor, swung his boat, and let his sheet pay out. Then, taking his bearings from the flashing lights, he headed straight for the new bed. Again and again he searched the horizon, but at first no slightest glimpse of the Shark rewarded his efforts. From time to time he cast an eye upward, studying the clouds. Now he was certain they were becoming thinner. About the water itself there seemed to be a faintly luminous quality. Alec had no fear it would betray the position of his little craft, however, for in color it was hardly distinguishable from the waves. It was his sail alone that he feared.
On he went. Mile after mile, the little Osprey followed the Shark. Now Alec was able to catch an occasional glimpse of the pirate ship. But these glimpses were so fleeting, so vague and uncertain, that had he not been straining his eyes to discover just what he saw, he would never have guessed that he was looking at a ship. There was a whitish, luminous patch that stood out for a second, then vanished again in the dark. But it was enough to tell Alec all he needed to know.
On they went. Minute followed minute. And to Alec a minute seemed like ten. For every minute took him farther from land, farther from help, nearer to danger. He was tense as a drumhead, his nerves were strung to the tightest notch, his senses fairly aquiver. He began to wish he had heeded Elsa's plea to return. But now his very pride would not let him go back. He had committed himself. He would see the thing through.
Now he felt certain the new bed must be near. He must lessen his speed or he might run too close to the raiders and be seen. He was in a quandary. He dared not lower his sail. He did not want to tack. He was running straight before the wind, directly in the wake of the Shark. He knew that by the yeasty track in the water. But he must do something to lessen his speed. He hauled in his sail so that it began to flap. He was afraid the noise might betray him or his canvas be rent by a sudden gust. So he paid out his rope enough to keep his sail steady, and went on.
His speed fell off. It was time it did, too, for almost immediately he heard a splashing in the water and the rattle of chains as they paid out over iron rollers. The Shark was dredging! And she was near at hand. Nearer than Alec had imagined, too near for safety should the night grow any lighter. For now Alec could faintly see the big ship. If only he knew that she was dredging in the shipper's bed, he could tack and run for port. But he did not know. He did not want to go back until he had his evidence complete. How to get it, he did not for the moment know. One thing was sure: he didn't dare go any closer to the Shark. He would lie to and watch. He ran forward and dropped his anchor. Then very cautiously he lowered his sail. Now he felt safe from observation as long as it continued dark. He would wait for an opportunity to learn what beds the Shark was dredging.