"She draws, fully stocked, just eight and a half feet aft," the detective answered. "And we could shift the gasoline so that she would get through on eight feet of water."
The captain nodded appreciatively.
"That fellow, the chances are, is right this minute at anchor somewhere in Pamlico Sound, or else he's cruising around on some of those connecting inland waters. The one and only place where he could get to sea again would be where he went in at Ocracoke, or else at Beaufort Inlet—though he might head for Norfolk by way of one of the two canal routes. You can bet your bottom dollar that, even as crazy as he is, he won't tackle the open sea just yet while this heavy swell is still on. It's my idea you got your man sure enough, for he's in a trap. The thing for you to do is to get aboard your craft, and then hot-foot it through the Dismal Swamp Canal for Ocracoke by way of Albemarle, Coratan and Pamlico Sounds.
"If you like," the Captain added with a touch of embarrassment lest he might seem officious, "I'll keep a sharp lookout on the other canal, so that he can't pass you while you're going through old Dismal. You might post the authorities at Elizabeth City to keep an eye open for the yacht, and to detain her if she shows up while you're rushing on at full speed for Ocracoke and Portsmouth. They're the little towns, one on each side of the Inlet. If you don't happen to find the outfit at either of these places, there ain't a particle of doubt according to my judgment that those folks can inform you of the direction taken by The Isabel when she sailed, for they keep mighty close tabs on every vessel that comes or goes through the Inlet. If you find she headed south on the inside, you'll know that loony is making for Beaufort Harbor with the idea of waiting there for the sea to calm down before venturing on the outside. Or maybe he hasn't any intention of going out at all. It seems to me he's more likely to be heading for some one of those tributaries to the Sound that are narrow and deep, with the shores covered by a regular jungle growth. Boats of any size seldom go into them—except once in a while one run by a drag-net fisherman. This crazy man could expect to hide there for weeks on a stretch without danger of being disturbed. If it's actually a case of kidnapping he's certainly shown himself as cunning as mad folks sometimes are."
The detective motioned to Roy to join him and the Captain. Then in a few crisp words he explained the situation as it was indicated by the mariner. Both he and Roy joined in expression of gratitude to the skipper, who gave his name as Jake White. Then the two, realizing the need of haste, said farewell, and made their way back to the wharf with what speed they might.
CHAPTER IX
Once in a Lifetime
To the average humane person the loss of a pet, whether through thievery or death itself, brings a very real sorrow for a time. How much worse it must be for one who lives alone, a recluse on an island of sand in the sea, to suffer the loss of his only living companion, something to come at his beck and call, something that seems indeed to reciprocate its master's affection!
It is true that Shrimp was only a fowl—a Dominick rooster at that. Probably, from the standpoint of intelligence, a creature very low in the scale. But its association in this case had developed the qualities of the bird. The years of companionship had brought man and rooster to an intimate understanding of each other.