“There’s the ship!” exclaimed Sanford, as he identified the Young America, half a mile distant, leading the squadron into the harbor of Stockholm.
“So it is; now we are in for it. Peaks has come out here with us to make sure that we don’t get away from him,” added Stockwell.
“If I had known as much last night as I know now, I would have cleared out, in spite of consul and police. If we are to be charged with smashing the second cutter, we shall not go on shore again this summer.”
“That’s so. But this boat is not headed for the ship. Peaks don’t see her.”
“Yes, he does; there isn’t a craft of any sort within five miles of us that he don’t see.”
“There’s the ship, Mr. Peaks,” shouted Stockwell.
“I see her.”
But the boatswain continued on his course, paying no attention to the ship. The squadron disappeared among the islands, and the steamer went out into the Baltic, keeping well in towards the shore. When any small schooner appeared, he ran up and examined her very carefully, overhauling three in this manner in the course of the forenoon. At noon the boatswain piped all hands to dinner, for he had procured a supply of provisions at the hotel. Though he had chartered the steamer with Ole acting as an interpreter, he gave no hint of his plans or purposes. He made signs to the helmsman where to go, and occasionally gave directions through Ole.
The fourth small schooner that he examined proved to be the Rensdyr, and Peaks identified her by seeing Clyde Blacklock, who stood on the forecastle, looking out for the approaches to Stockholm. Possibly he had seen the Young America, which passed the schooner, though a mile distant.
“Lay her alongside that small vessel,” said Peaks to Ole.