He scanned the water on either side of him for a possible sight of other craft that might be heading in the same direction. But though in the distance he saw and heard other motorboats, none seemed to be laying a course for Rattlesnake Island.
“I wonder if they’ll be there—and on time,” mused Tom. He did not whisper, even to the unoccupied darkness about him, any designation of those he had in mind. He merely said: “I wonder if they’ll be there.”
It was not a long run, in Tom’s speedy craft, to the sinister, dark island where he and Ned had lately been prisoners, and almost before he had finished going over in his mind the various occurrences that had taken place since he had begun working on his talking-picture machine, the young inventor found himself approaching the place.
“Wonder if I’m to land at the dock where Snogg and Janner tied up the Turtle. Or am I to circle the island until I get a sign?” mused Tom. “From the fact that they have named as a rendezvous the old house, I should think it would be at the same dock where Ned and I saw those rascals working on their boat the time we gave them the slip. Think I’ll try there first, anyhow.”
Tom was a good navigator, and it did not take him long to get his bearings and head for the dock in question. As he approached it, he saw a dim light on it and this convinced him that he was to tie up there. Slowing his boat to half speed, for he was not sure about the state of water, and thinking there might be rocks, the young man stood up and strained his eyes to pierce the gloom. The single lantern on the end of the dock gave illumination enough to make certain that the way was clear, as far as obstructions in the water were concerned.
“Well, here I go—for better or for worse,” said Tom grimly to himself as he shut off power and allowed his craft to glide up to the stringpiece. The dock was rather a ruin, but he found a ring in a beam and made his rope fast there.
Then, before getting out of the boat, Tom looked sharply about as well as he could by such illumination as a smoking lantern gave. There was no sight nor sound of any other visitor to Rattlesnake Island. Tom seemed to be the only one there. Yet he knew there were others.
“I suppose I’m to go right up and knock at the front door,” and Tom chuckled a little. “They don’t seem to have appointed a reception committee with a brass band. Guess those fellows don’t do business that way. Well, might as well get started.”
Before getting out of his boat, however, he made sure that the mooring rope was tied in such a way that, if need be, he could make a running jump into the craft, pull the knot out with one tug of the free end and so be loosed from the dock. Also he made certain that his motor would start at once. It was a powerful and speedy craft in which Tom had come to the island—one that would start with a throw of a switch, not needing any laborious cranking.
“I might want to get away in a hurry,” he had reasoned.