“Impossible to say,” said the captain, “but a light tub like that would drift fast, and their trick will have given those lubbers a big lead on us.”
“Not much doubt of that, I’m afraid,” agreed Jack; “but we may as well keep right on now. Possibly we’ll get track of them at East Hampton.”
With only this hope to buoy them through the long night hours, the trio clung to the marine trail. All of them were too excited to sleep and so they took turn and turn about at steering, attending to the engine and keeping a lookout.
As the first gray warning of dawn came on the eastern horizon, Captain Andrews consulted his log, compass and charts. He declared that they were not far from East Hampton, and that unless something had happened to the Tarpon during the night, she must have landed her passengers there. This was a bitter pill to swallow, but the boys kept hoping against hope while the light grew stronger.
But as the surrounding sea became visible in the summer’s dawn, a cry of delight broke from three throats simultaneously.
Bobbing up and down on the swells not half a mile off lay the Tarpon. She was motionless, except for the action imparted by the waves, and it was evident that something was the matter with her engines.
“Guess they tried to run so fast during the night that they overheated them,” declared Captain Andrews, as he gazed at the other craft.
He turned his wheel, and the Sea Gull began to head toward the Tarpon. At first it appeared that they were not observed, but the next instant they found out differently. Something sang through the air above Captain Andrews’ head.
Jack saw a flash and a puff of smoke from one of the portholes of the Tarpon’s raised deck cabin, and a few seconds later came the report of a rifle. Then, borne clearly across the water, came a megaphoned threat:
“Keep off, or it will be the worse for you.”