"We must go out some distance, for there is hardly any wind under the bluffs," replied the skipper. "You take a seat in that corner, Mad;" and he crowded him into the place opposite his own.
The other ruffians were arranged to suit him, and then he shoved the sloop off into deep water. The sail filled on the port tack, and the Silver Moon went off with the wind a little abaft of the beam. The shore was low at the head of the bay, and the sloop got her full share of the breeze. She struck into an eight-knot speed at once.
"It was lucky for us that you came up to the creek, Mr. Bissell," said Mad Twinker, as the boat shot ahead.
"Perhaps it was," replied the skipper; but there was not much enthusiasm in the remark.
"Those villains from the other side blocked us in so that we couldn't do anything, and we were thinking of walking Paul over by land," added the leader. "But some of us are about used up, and we did not like the idea of such a tramp through the woods."
As he spoke he glanced at the battered faces of some of his companions. They all looked as though they had been through the wars.
"The head boat of the tinkers is swinging around," said Alf Sumner, as the Gildrock turned her bow towards the shore.
"I wonder what they are going to do now," added Mad Twinker, with no little anxiety in his expression.