The old Mollie was, indeed, doing her prettiest, and carrying a “bone in her teeth” under a fresh westerly breeze.
George Warren vowed vengeance on Haley, for his hard treatment of Harvey and Tom Edwards. Young Joe groaned in sympathy as Harvey told of the food served to the crew of the Brandt.
“There’s a big chicken pie, over in that locker, Jack,” he said, with a longing look in the direction indicated.
“No, thanks, Joe,” laughed Harvey; “we had a good, square meal before we set out this morning; and we’ve been making up for what we lost, these last few days.”
“No use, Joe, you’ll have to wait till dinner time before you get any more of that pie,” said Arthur Warren, slyly.
Young Joe scowled in high indignation.
“I didn’t want any,” he declared.
“Well, I’ve done all I can,” said Edward Warren. “I’ve put the authorities on the track, and a police boat will pick up Haley, I expect, before we do. We’ll have some news as soon as we get over among the dredging fleet.”
“I’m not so sure about Haley’s being caught right off,” returned Will Adams. “It all depends upon whether he thinks he’s being hunted or not. This bay is a mighty big sheet of water, and there are a thousand and one places to run to for hiding. And as I say, these fellows have a way of warning one another. We may get word of him soon, or we may not. We’ll have to wait and see.”
They ran in through Hooper strait that afternoon, in company with quite a fleet of oyster fishermen; a score of bug-eyes, picturesque and spirited under full sail; several sharp-stern punjies; and, in Tangier Sound, other smaller craft. Harvey, on deck, as lookout, watched eagerly, using Will Adams’s telescope now and then, for the familiar rig of the Brandt. Will Adams, at the wheel, rejoiced in the acquisition of one who would know the craft at a distance, instead of their having to trust to chance report of the vessel from some passing skipper.