We were now going along at eight knots and running steadily. After all, there's nothing like machinery to get things done.
"This is something like," said Smith. "There'll be some shooting inside of an hour if the signs hold."
The messenger said nothing. The men of the boat had not asked a question. They had taken us at our word, and were doing what they could to put us alongside.
Perhaps it would be different when we came to close quarters. We had better tell them what our errand was before they stopped the motor at the beginning of hostilities. They might take us for what we were after—burglars, and spoil our chance to make a catch.
We drew near the schooner after two hours' chase. The land was lost astern, and we had run fully fifteen miles off shore.
The breeze began to freshen, but not enough to give the schooner her full, or even half, speed. She plugged along steadily at about five knots, and we drew up close enough to see a man at the wheel and no one else on deck.
Smith and the messenger told our skipper how matters stood, and the fisherman seemed to hardly relish the game after he knew it. There was certain to be trouble.
"Schooner ahoy!" I yelled, as we drew near enough to hail.
The man at the wheel paid no attention until I had repeated it several times. Then he turned and asked us what we wished in no pleasant tone.
"You stop your engine and let us board," I yelled. "You have two robbers aboard, and we want them in the name of the law."