The first take was disappointing; the second more fortunate. Time after time the gear was brought in, and gradually a considerable number of fish accumulated.
Redisham had brought with him a pair of marine glasses, of which he was especially proud. They were particularly powerful, and he was constantly testing them by trying to read the names on distant ships. At about nine o'clock he was idly searching the horizon, when his attention was arrested by a strange sail to the far north-east.
"Darby!" he cried. "There's that Dutch ketch! Have a look at her."
Darby took up the skipper's telescope from the top of the skylight and adjusted the focus.
"Yes," he agreed, after a while. "It's the same, no doubt. I know her by her weatherboard. But what's she up to? She's bang in the track of the steamer bearing down on her! Hullo! The steamer's stopped! Wait a bit. The Dutchman's putting out a boat."
The two Scouts watched what was going on across the sea—the rowing boat pulling alongside the steamship and returning to the ketch, having apparently disposed of some of its passengers.
Why should this transfer of passengers be made in the open sea? And had Max Hilliger anything to do with it?
Mark made out the steamer to be a vessel of about 2,000 tons. She had two cream-coloured funnels, and was furnished with many lifeboats and deckhouses, like a liner. He tried to read her name, but it was hidden by the anchor chain. It satisfied him, however, that she was flying the Red Ensign, and he took no further notice of her as she continued on her course south by west.
Shortly afterwards he was startled by the report of Darby's fowling-piece.
"Got him!" cried Catchpole. "It's a tern."