“He means the old Folly, the police boat,” said the sailor, softly. “She’s just a big schooner. She’s got no power in her. The Brandt can beat her, on a pinch, I reckon.”
The captain returned to his vessel, shortly, and the order was given to make sail. Harvey sprang to the halyards with a will. If it were a poaching venture, it was not his fault—and the best that could happen for him would be capture. The anchor was got aboard, and the Brandt ran quickly across to the Eastern bank of the river followed by the other vessel.
They passed close to Solomon’s Island and skirted as near the shores of that and the land northward as they could go. The wind was almost directly abeam, and they made fast way of it. Clearly, the course was as plain as a man’s door-yard to Hamilton Haley; for he passed at times so close to land, that it seemed, in the darkness, to be near enough for one to jump ashore. Jim Adams, in the bow, kept sharp watch, however; and now and again, rather than run the risk of calling out, he ran back to the wheel and pointed ahead, where the water shoaled.
Just to the north of the wharf which they had termed Spencer’s, the river made a bend, and a thin peak of land jutted out. They followed the curving of the shore, peering across the water toward Spencer’s.
“There she lies,” said Adams, darting aft to where Haley stood. “Listen, they’re getting up anchor.”
Hamilton Haley, after one quick glance, put the helm down and brought the bug-eye up into the wind. The other bug-eye drew abreast. Haley pointed in toward the schooner, barely discernible, and showing a light in its rigging.
“They’re coming out,” he called softly.
The two vessels headed off again and went on, rounding the point and running up the river. Haley, picking his course, with accuracy, gazed astern again and again, with an anxious eye. Presently he uttered an exclamation of anger. The schooner Folly had, indeed, put forth from its mooring and, with all sail spread, was taking a diagonal course across the river, following in the wake of the two poachers.
The shore of the river made a bend to the eastward, at this point, however, and the river broadened to the width of something like a mile and a half. So that, by following closely the inward curve of the shore, instead of setting a straight course up stream, the two bug-eyes could put the point of land between them and the schooner for a time. It would, moreover, afford them proof, when the schooner should have passed the point, whether or not they really were being followed. If the police boat were merely proceeding on its patrol up river, it would not hug the eastern bank, and might, indeed, go up on the other side.
The vessels were not left long in doubt, however; for, as the two skippers peered back through the night, they discerned, after a time, the schooner heading in north by east, having turned the point.