The motor-boat was a trim little craft, some forty feet in length, with a cabin forward, and an open deck aft, the latter covered with an awning and containing several chairs.
As she drew nearer Chot uttered an exclamation of astonishment, for plainly visible at the bow was a small brass swivel gun, evidently of the rapid fire variety.
“Mr. Lawrence is evidently prepared for war,” said Fleet. “I didn’t know they used such weapons on private yachts.”
“That’s no private yacht,” said Chot, who was studying the boat intently; “see that American flag at the stern and the man in a blue uniform at the wheel. That, fellows, is a government boat, probably in the revenue service. She is of a fine size to wind in and out among these islands.”
“But what can she be wanting at Winnsocket Lodge?” asked Pod, perplexed.
“That I can’t say, but, very likely, the officers are on the trail of the smugglers. They may have taken Mr. Lawrence captive, and are now on the lookout for the rest of the band.”
“We’d better go meet them,” said Tom. “That will show our good will.”
“Yes; Pod, you go down and tell Bert to watch the prisoners while we are gone, and don’t say anything before the smugglers about the officers being here.”
Pod hurried away to do Chot’s bidding, and Chot, Tom, Fleet and Truem went down to the little wharf toward which the motor-boat was heading.
The noise of her engines soon ceased, and describing a pretty circle, she came drifting up to the landing. Two men—one in the bow, the other in the stern—threw painters to the boys, who made them fast to posts on the wharf.