“His boat’s just a leaky tub,” replied Louise. “I hear it sunk twice while tied up to the dock. One has to feel sorry for him and treat him with kindness.”
Penny steered “Pop’s Worry” in a diagonal course down stream. On either side of the shore, from houses, factories, and a nearby amusement park, lights twinkled and were reflected on the unruffled surface of the water. The breeze was soft and warm; the stars seemed very close. Overhead a disc of orange moon rode lazily, now and then dodging behind a fleecy cloud.
“It’s a perfect night to sail,” Louise said, snuggling amid the cushions. “Wish we’d brought the phonograph along.”
“Uh-huh,” Penny agreed, her gaze on an approaching motorboat.
The oncoming craft showed no lights. Uncertain that the pilot would see Pop’s Worry, she focused the beam of her flashlight high on the mainsail. The motorboat altered its course instantly and completely. Instead of turning only enough to avoid the sailing craft, it circled in a sharp arc and sped toward the opposite shore. There it was lost to view amid a dark fringe of trees.
“It’s against the regulations to cruise without lights,” Penny commented. “Wonder who piloted that boat?”
“Whoever he was, you seemed to frighten him away.”
“He did turn tail when he saw my light,” Penny agreed, scanning the distant shore. “I imagine the boat came from Ottman’s. At least it looked like one of theirs.”
Ottman’s—a nautical supply shop and boat rental dock—was well known, not only to the girls, but to all sailors who plied nearby waters. Owned and operated by a brother and sister, Sara and Burt Ottman, the establishment provided canoes, sea skiffs and rowboats to all who were able to pay the hourly rate. Because many of the would-be boatmen were more venturesome than experienced, seasoned sailors were inclined to eye such pilots with distrust.
“Careful, Penny!” Louise called as she saw the mainsail begin to flap in the wind. “You’re luffing!”