“Now, will you let us out?” Hegan demanded.
“Yes, very soon,” replied Jack. “We’ll be in Greenport before long.”
Another shot rang out, and Jack, who had taken hold of the wheel, gave a start as the bullet narrowly missed him. The breeze was freshening rapidly, and already he could dimly make out a portion of the coast-line, which gave the captain a general idea in which direction to steer. But to stand there and deliberately present himself as a target for the two ruffians in the cabin, had no appeal for him whatever. He slipped behind the wheel, and crouched down as low as possible, at the same time motioning Rodney to go forward, out of range.
“Don’t take any chances, Rod,” he advised.
The Sea-Lark was now leaning over gently before the breeze, and beginning to cut along slowly toward the harbor.
“They couldn’t hit a hay-stack in a passage,” shouted Rodney, derisively, as he skipped into the bow.
Immediately a shot came flying through the forward end of the deck-house, and Rodney ducked behind the mast.
“Have you two had enough of it yet?” Hegan bawled.