“Huh! I know that only too well.”
“Fortunately, the tide is coming in, and her bow points toward the open Sound. It will be high and slack in a couple of hours, so under her bow will be the best vantage ground for us, and it will be the least-guarded part of the yacht.”
“I know that. You mean to get aboard of her, don’t you, and to keep watch from there?”
“If it is practicable, yes.”
The detective buckled his belt around him, and then let himself carefully down over the side into the water. His companions did the same, and in another moment they were swimming silently toward the Aurora.
There was no moon, fortunately, for the weather had changed into one of those still, but cloudy, nights which often precede a storm; and yet there was a bright moon shining somewhere back of the clouds, and sufficient of its brilliancy penetrated them so that floating objects upon the water could be seen at a considerable distance.
At a distance of about a cable’s length from the Aurora the three men disappeared under the water, and they did not reappear until they were well under the chains of the Aurora; and there they paused a moment and held a whispered consultation.
The surface of the cove, and of the Sound out beyond it, was as smooth as glass. There was not a ripple any where to be seen, and the detective knew that if the pirate attempted to approach on the surface of the water, his craft would create a ripple which a close watcher would surely discover.
On the other hand, if he should approach under the water, as the detective had no doubt he would do, he would in all probability observe his previous program, and come to the surface close under the bow of the vessel he intended to attack.
“In that case,” he argued, “he will be right where we want him. But it is too early yet. Wait here until I climb aboard the Aurora, and if all is clear I will call you up there, and we will do our waiting on the deck.”