“I saw it on the chart the other day. A man couldn't help figuring that out.”
“What would you suggest doing?”
“Putting for Spencer's, just as tight as your old stationary wash-tub can make it.”
“But hold on, now. If you think they have got away from there long ago—”
“I think that, but I'm not sure. Supposing they have—then you've lost them anyhow. Don't you see? But suppose there was a delay in getting away there,—it's more than likely McGlory and Spencer wouldn't agree. McGlory isn't the agreeing kind, and I don't think Spencer is either. It will be daylight before so very long, and with this wind they can't get here, if they're coming here at all, without our sighting them on the way over. And there is just a fighting chance of catching them there before they make for Georgian Bay, or some other place we don't know of.” Beveridge thought a moment. “There is something in that. We 'll do it.”
At mid-morning the Foote stopped her engines abreast of False Middle Island, and Captain Sullivan sent for Beveridge.
“You tell me there is a harbor in there?”
“That's what I understand. But it won't be necessary to take the steamer in.”
The Captain's expression showed that he had not the slightest notion of taking her in.
“I think,” Beveridge went on, “that you had better put me ashore with a few men in there north of the island. I 'll go around behind the sand-dunes and come on the place from the woods. Then if they should be there, and if they should try to run out, you can stop them. I 'll have Smiley guide me.”