“Wait!” cried Willie. “That might be a light ashore. Or they might be trying to fool us. It isn’t likely they would come up the west bank. They’d surely meet boats anchored off Quarantine. And I’m certain the motor we heard was on this side of the river.”
“Never mind,” called the Chief to the steersman. “Keep her steady.”
“Hold your message, Willie. Let each boat keep her place in line and close in if a rum runner is discovered.”
Willie stepped to his instrument. But before he could clamp his head ’phones on, the roar of motors came loud and distinct. This time there could be no mistake. The sounds were on the east side of the river, and there was more than one motor exploding.
“They’re coming along this bank,” shouted Willie. “I hear several motors.”
“Call in the fleet,” shouted back the Chief. Willie flashed out the order. “Close in toward the east bank.”
Instantly each boat replied. The Surveyor quickened her pace and headed farther inshore. With straining eyes her crew stared into the dark. The Chief swept the surface of the tossing waters with a powerful night glass. Suddenly a cry burst from his lips.
“I see them. They’re close ashore and coming like the wind. Crowd on all speed. We must cut them off. Man your searchlight.”
Plainer and plainer came the roar of the speeding rum runners. “Dead ahead,” called the Chief to the steersman. “If we’re fast enough we’ll cut them off. Turn on your searchlight, a little off the starboard bow.”
Suddenly a dazzling beam of light shot across the waves. A moment it swept back and forth across the foaming water. Then it came to rest. Three power boats in close formation were tearing through the surging seas.