The Launch Boys' Adventures in Northern Waters by Edward Sylvester Ellis (acx book reading TXT) 📖

Back River, it was at the spot he had in mind. There was the runabout in which he and Warner Hagan had come from Wiscasset, and the owner was calmly smoking his brier wood pipe, content to wait indefinitely when he was well paid for so doing. He lay a few rods south of the landing, and just below him was the _Water Witch_, with Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes on board, wondering what in the world had become of Mike Murphy. The youths had tried to open communication with the master of the runabout, but he had been warned by his two passengers to tell nothing to anyone, and he glumly refused to talk. Chester had set out in quest of the missing Mike, going as far as the village. All he could learn there was that his friend had left a good while before and no one knew anything of him. The second mate went back to his Captain, and the two were so impatient that they were half inclined to leave without him, when lo! he appeared with Calvert and Noxon, coming from among the trees as if he had been absent only a few minutes.

Then followed full explanations, and you can imagine the astonishment of Alvin and Chester. They were sure of the identity of Noxon when he first appeared, but were considerate and said never a word that could hurt his feelings.

"You ran away with their launch," added Calvert. "They ran away with yours, and you and they met as you were coming back. But for the fog you would have seen each other, for you must have passed quite close. The beauty of it is," said the officer, with a flash of his keen eyes, "that while they have gone far away we know exactly where. My friend Hagan and I, with Noxon as our guide, are going to scoop them in."

He thought it best not to affect too much mystery.

"They passed down Montsweag Bay clear to Knubble, through Goose Rock Passage into the Sheepscot, and up that to the Beautiful Isle of Somewhere. Most folks don't know the exact location of that sweet spot, but we know--thanks to Noxon--the latitude and longitude of ours, which the same is the port we are heading for."

The plan was simple. Noxon, who was familiar with the running of the _Water Witch_, was to act as engineer and steersman. Calvert and Hagan would be the only passengers, and the prize would be Kit Woodford and Graff Miller.

"And phwat's to become of us?" asked Mike.

"That depends upon how you behave yourself. If you grow tired of waiting, take a walk up to Beartown, have dinner with Mrs. Friestone and then come back and wait for a few days and nights till you see us again."

"That's aisy, as I told me taicher whin she asked me how much two and two made and I informed her the same was five."

"But Mr. Hagan isn't here," reminded Chester.

"He will be very soon. Meanwhile, I'll say a word to my man."

He walked to the runabout, where he told its owner he might return to Wiscasset as he was not needed further. He added a dollar to the price agreed upon and the man bade him good-by. Hagan, who had gone off on what might be called a reconnaissance, justified the faith of his partner, for he came forward, and thus the party was complete.

The distance was shorter by way of the Narrows and down the Sheepscot than by the route just named. Accordingly, the _Water Witch_ headed north, while the _Deerfoot_ it will be remembered went south. The difference was not much, the real reason why the course was taken being of another nature. If the _Water Witch_ had set out to search for the other boat, with no knowledge of its destination, it would have prowled to the southward, inspecting all likely hiding places on the way, with a strong chance that she herself would be detected and her purpose read before she discovered the fugitive. By taking the northern route this handicap would be avoided. They could make much better progress and not be seen until it was too late for the criminals to escape.

Thus Alvin Landon, Chester Haynes and Mike Murphy were left on the shore of the Back River, near Beartown landing, without any launch and compelled to pass the time as best they could. They decided to spend a few hours in the village.

They appreciated the reason why Calvert would not have their company. He was plunging into a venture where deadly weapons were likely to be used, and their lives would be endangered. The affair was really none of theirs. Besides, their presence would be a serious handicap and might prove fatal to success.

The _Water Witch_ soon shot past Cushman Point, passing the runabout so close that the officers exchanged salutations with the man who had brought them from Wiscasset. Calvert and Hagan sat side by side, both puffing heavy black cigars, the smoke of which as it streamed astern might have suggested that the launch was impelled by steam instead of gasoline. She ran smoothly, and Noxon, with a pale face, his hands grasping the wheel, steered as skilfully as Alvin Landon had directed the swifter _Deerfoot_. He had done it many times and had no fear. The young man had come to the parting of the ways, and nothing could turn him back. His resolution was due to the wound, which had distressed him so much when he hobbled to the home of Mrs. McCaffry that he believed for a time he was near the end of life, and when one reaches _that_ point he is sure to do some serious thinking.

Just above Clough Point, marking the northern extremity of the large island of Westport, the _Water Witch_ turned eastward through the Narrows and headed straight south down the Sheepscot River to its destination some ten miles away. Noxon seated with his hands upon the wheel remained silent. The officers spoke to each other now and then in low tones, but most of the time left him to his meditations. He held the boat to moderate speed, for there was no call for haste. She was running easily, but a glance by the young man into the gasoline tank showed the supply was low, and he wished to avoid stopping at any of the landings to renew it. Besides, high speed is always a strain upon an engine, and he was nervously anxious to prevent a breakdown at a critical point in the enterprise. His familiarity with the launch made him cautious.

While Calvert and Hagan were following a clearly defined plan, they knew "there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." They had high hopes of finding the other boat at the spot which Calvert had facetiously named the Beautiful Isle of Somewhere, but it might well happen that they would be disappointed. At the first sign of danger the _Deerfoot_ would run away and her superior fleetness would leave her pursuers hopelessly behind. Above all, it was important that the criminals should not discover their peril in time to get away.

"Noxon," said Calvert, leaning forward, "let us know when we are near the cove."

"We are within less than a mile of it now. It is just ahead on the right."

Each officer flung his stump of a cigar overboard and slipped from his chair to the bottom of the boat. Inasmuch as their interest was centred on one side of the boat, they crowded each other a little. They removed their headgear and permitted only their crowns to show a few inches above the rail as they peered over. They held themselves ready at the same time to duck into complete invisibility.

"The cove is in sight," announced Noxon, slightly turning his head. "Better keep down."

A few minutes later they felt the change in the course of the launch. They were entering the inlet and the officers raised their heads barely enough to peer alongside of the steersman, over the front and beyond the flagstaff with its fluttering bunting.

"There it is!" whispered Calvert to his friend.

"I see it," said the other, "the Beautiful Isle of Somewhere; we are closer to it than I supposed."


CHAPTER XXX

A THROUGH TICKET TO HOME

There it was in plain sight, rising like a giant nosegay of emerald from the crystalline water. It was barely two acres in extent, and, like nearly all islands great and small in southern Maine, the firs, pines and spruce grew to the very edge of the water. It reminded one of the patches of green earth in Europe where the frugal owners do not allow a square inch to go to waste.

"I don't see anything of the _Deerfoot_," said Calvert in a guarded voice to Noxon.

"We always lay to on the other side. Keep down!"

It was wise advice, though not needed. The two crouched so low in their crowded quarters that a person a hundred feet away would not have seen them. Each instinctively felt of his hip pocket. The little weapon was there.

The officers had now to depend upon Noxon, who for the time was director of the enterprise. He could make himself heard over his shoulder without drawing attention to himself, provided he was under the eye of his old associates. He was never more alert.

Veering to the right, where there was a hundred yards of clear water between the islet and the mainland, he slowed down and began gradually circling the exuberant patch of earth. It will be remembered that he had been there before and knew the habits of Woodford and Miller. By and by, he had glided far enough to bring the western shore into his field of vision. Before that moment he had discerned the stern and flagstaff of a launch. A second glance told him the truth, which he cautiously made known to the crouching forms behind him:

"The _Deerfoot_ is there! Don't stir till I give the word!"

Neither of the criminals was in sight, but it was evident they were near, else the launch would not be lying where it was. Noxon gave a series of toots with his whistle, though the noise of the exhaust must have been noted before. In response, Kit Woodford and Graff Miller came out from among the trees, halted at the side of the launch and stared at the _Water Witch_ and its single occupant.

Could they believe their eyes? They saw before them their own boat and the young man whom they had cowardly deserted in his extremity. What was the explanation to be?

By this time the parties were so near that they could talk with only a slight raise in their voices. Kit Woodford was the first to open his mouth. With a profane expletive expressing his surprise, he demanded:

"Where did you come from?"

It was on the tongue of Noxon to make a biting reply, but he did not forget the part he had to play.

"I found this boat at the wharf at Beartown and thought I'd hunt you up. How came you to have _that_ launch?"

"Some one had run off with ours and left that. So we made a trade and I rather think we got the best of the bargain. I don't understand how ours was found by you."

"Maybe the owners of that wanted to trade back. I say, Kit, I would like to know something--why did you and Graff run off and leave me