It was surprising, the change that had come over this usually coolest and most deliberate of the boys. He and Jack Harvey had not always been friends; but now that circ.u.mstances had brought them together, and they had cemented their friendship by a summer together and a partnership in a fishing enterprise, they were loyal comrades. Henry Burns would have set out on the moment, for Solomon's Island and the sloop Mollie, and have worked all night to get her ready, if Will Adams had only said the word.

But there was, plainly, nothing to be done until morning; and so, with a hearty handshake all round, the boys and Edward Warren left the big house on Drum Point and headed homeward across the river in the canoe.

There was no time lost, on the following morning, however. They were up and across the river at an early hour; and, taking Will Adams into the canoe, they all went along by the sh.o.r.e into the creek where the Mollie lay at her mooring. She was stripped of her sails and some of her rigging, out of commission for the winter season.

The young yachtsmen recognized her for what she was, a smart sea boat; and they went to work with a will to a.s.sist in getting her ready for cruising. From a loft on Solomon's Island they carried down the big main-sail and the jibs and a single topsail. They lugged the big anchor-rode and two anchors, including a spare one, carried for emergency, down to the sh.o.r.e, and rowed the stuff out aboard. They a.s.sisted in bending on the sails; lacing them to boom and gaff; in reeving rigging; splicing a rope here and there; trying the pump and putting on a fresh leather to the sucker rod; greasing the foot of the mast, where the hoops chafed; putting aboard water jugs and spare rigging-in short, the score and more things that went to make the craft fit and safe for winter cruising.

By early afternoon, the sloop, Mollie, was spick and clean and ship-shape, with a brand new main-sheet and topping-lift, that would stand a winter's squall; her ballast stowed in, as some of it had been taken ash.o.r.e. Everything was in readiness for the cruise, even to the starboard and port lights, for use at night, and some charts of the bay provided by Will Adams. They locked the cabin, and went back in the canoe, first to Will Adams's landing and then across to the other sh.o.r.e.

George Warren held the tiller, in the absence of Edward Warren, who had remained at home, preparing for his trip to Baltimore the following morning.

Through all that afternoon and until darkness settled over the river, there was not a half hour that did not find Henry Burns either at a window or out in the dooryard, gazing off through Edward Warren's spy-gla.s.s. He looked longingly for the sight of a craft, the image of which, with its exact lines and the cut of its sails, was clear and distinct in his mind.

George Warren pointed out at him, once, and called Edward Warren to look.

"He's all cut up about poor Jack," he said. "I never saw him so worked up about anything. You'd better hurry back from Baltimore, Cousin Ed, or he'll be sailing off alone in the Mollie after Haley's bug-eye."

Edward Warren laughed.

"I'll risk that," he said. "Don't you boys worry; we'll get Haley, all right. We'll have young Harvey ash.o.r.e here before many days, or I miss my guess."

That very afternoon, the bug-eye, Z. B. Brandt, was coming slowly up the coast, heading for Cedar Point, the lighthouse on which marked the turning-point for vessels bound into the Patuxent. Hamilton Haley, sitting gloomily at the wheel, turned a sour face upon the mate, as the latter stepped near.

"I never did see such all-fired mean luck since I took to dredging!" he burst out, glowering at the mate, as though Jim Adams were in some way at fault. "First it's that sneaking foreigner, that we took to help Bill out, that gets away. Who'd have thought he'd ever swum for it, a night like that, and all that way from sh.o.r.e? I hope he drowned! I hope he drowned and the dog-fish ate him. That's what."

"He'd make pow'ful bad eatin', I reckon," suggested Jim Adams.

"Yes, but he could have turned a handle of the winch like a soldier,"

said Haley. "And he's a dead loss, being as I'm bound by the law as we make ourselves, and swear to, to leave Sam Black aboard Bill's boat, so long as I've gone and lost Bill's man."

"I didn't think that youngster, Harvey, and that business chap, Edwards, had the nerve to do what they did," said Jim Adams.

Hamilton Haley snorted. The subject was like a match to gun-powder.

"'Twas that young rascal, Harvey, that did it!" he cried. "I didn't beat him up enough. I wish as how I had him lashed up for'ard there now.

'Tother chap wouldn't have gone and done it. 'Twas the youngster's work.

And p'raps it didn't cost me a penny!"

Haley pointed, with high indignation, to a new hatch which replaced the one on which Harvey and Tom Edwards had floated to sh.o.r.e.

"Seven dollars for that!" he exclaimed, "to say nothing of the time it took to make it. And ten dollars apiece to Artie Jenkins for the two of 'em that's gone. And Sam Black worth as much more. I tell you it ain't right for a poor dredger, as earns his money by hard work and tends to business, to get such luck as that dealt out to him."

Haley was half whining. From his view-point, the fates had, indeed, been unkind.

"There's someone coming down," remarked the mate.

Haley took a long look ahead, at a craft visible nearly a mile away.

"It's Tom Noyes's boat," he said, finally. "I'd know his masts anywhere."

The other craft, a bug-eye somewhat smaller than the Brandt, came dead on toward them. The distance between them rapidly diminished, and they came presently within hailing distance. The other craft did not merely hail, however. It came up into the wind and lowered a boat. Haley brought the Brandt into the wind, also, and the small boat came alongside. A man stepped aboard and said something to Haley. The latter jumped as though a shot had been fired at him. A grin of satisfaction overspread his dull face.

"You don't mean it, Tom!" he cried. "Hooray! I'd rather get him than ten bushels of oysters in one heap. Come below. Jim, you take the wheel."

The two captains descended into the cabin, leaving Jim Adams to hold the bug-eye into the wind. They remained below some minutes, conversing earnestly; and when they reappeared Haley was in a good humour that made Jim Adams stare.

"Jim," he said, slapping the mate on the shoulder with a jocularity all unusual to him, "you're a right good mate. We're going up the river to-night-away up. We're going to ship a good man-a right good man, Jim.

You never saw such a rare fellow at a winder as he'll be. Ho! Ho! I reckon the rest of 'em won't have to work at all with him aboard.

Good-bye, Cap'n Tom. I'll see you down on the Eastern sh.o.r.e. We're going to quit around here. The reefs seem all played out. Good luck!"

Haley, seeing his guest off, turned to Jim Adams and proceeded to impart to him a piece of information that brought a broad smile to his features, also. The two had emerged thus suddenly from the depths of gloom and discouragement into a feeling almost of hilarity. The bug-eye was brought by the wind once more, and they went on up the bay.

The night falling, Henry Burns, up at the old farmhouse, gave over looking for any sail and went in to supper. It was a serious looking party at table that night. The next few days might mean much to them, or little, according as fortune favoured. The boys urged upon Edward Warren to lose no time in returning to them.

"And you look out for yourselves, while I'm away," he cautioned. "If you see anything of Haley, just take the canoe and scoot for Drum Point. Then let Will Adams handle the thing. He's careful and he knows everybody around here, and just what to do."

"We will," replied George Warren. "We'll be all right. Don't you worry."

They were off to bed in good season, though Henry Burns would have sat up and gone down to the sh.o.r.e from time to time. He was persuaded by Edward Warren that it were better to turn out at daybreak and look for the vessel, before she should get under weigh, if she should happen to come in during the night.

Henry Burns was usually the soundest of sleepers. He had a way of dismissing care for a night, when he knew there could be nothing affected by lying awake. He could have slept at sea in the hardest of storms, once satisfied that the vessel was staunch and weathering the gale. But to-night it was different. He had at first suggested that they watch through the night, by turns; but Edward Warren had not approved. His mind was set on the warrant and the action by the authorities.

Therefore, Henry Burns was restless. Once he arose and sat for a time by the window, Young Joe slumbering peacefully in the bed. The moon was beginning to show above the horizon, and it made a fine sight. But Henry Burns thought of Jack Harvey out aboard Haley's bug-eye, and the night had little of beauty in it for him. He turned in and slept, lightly, for an hour or two. Then the impulse to arise again was too strong. He crept out of bed, wrapped a blanket about him, and seated himself in a big armchair by the window.

Sleep overtook him as he sat there, with the picture of the moonlight, lying across the river in a great flooding pathway, before his eyes as they closed.

Again he awoke. The picture was still there. The moon had risen higher, however, and the pathway of silver light across the river was more diffused. The river rippled and danced beneath the mellow flood. But the picture was not just the same, either. There was something in it which he had not seen before-the masts and rigging of a vessel, clearly outlined in the moonlight. Henry Burns gave one look, rubbed his eyes to convince himself that he was really awake, then sprang to his feet.

"It's the Brandt," he said, softly. "I can't be mistaken. I'll just slip down and make sure."

It was, indeed, Haley's bug-eye, anch.o.r.ed for an hour, for Haley to pick up some stuff he had left up on the bank-a bit of rigging and a small anchor he had bought-for he would not stop on his way down the river, but would make all sail for the Eastern sh.o.r.e.

Henry Burns dressed himself hurriedly, but quietly, without waking Young Joe. He would make sure, before arousing the household. If he should get them up and then prove to be mistaken, he knew what Edward Warren would think. He was warmly clad, but he found a short reefer, which was a thick, warm overcoat, on the rack in the hall below, and he put that on, for the night was sharp.

Cautiously, he slipped the bolt of the front door and stole out of the house, closing the door gently after him. Then he set off for the sh.o.r.e at a rapid pace.

He came to the bank overlooking the river, shortly, and crouched down by some bushes, looking off at the vessel carefully. He was sure he could not be mistaken in her. She lay not over quarter of a mile off sh.o.r.e, and he could see her lines and rig sharply defined.

"I'd stake my half of the Viking on its being the Brandt," he murmured.

"I'd like just one glimpse of her name, though, to make sure."

As he spoke the words, there flashed into his mind the idea of going out to see. It was easy. There was the skiff that went with the canoe, on long trips. It lay at a stake, just a few feet from the canoe. He knew where the sculling oar was hidden, under a log at the foot of the bank.

Henry Burns arose and stole quickly down to the sh.o.r.e, a short distance up river from where he had been hiding. In a moment more, he was seated in the skiff.

He was no novice in small boat handling. It was the work of but a few minutes for him to be close upon the bug-eye. He waited a moment, a few rods away, listening intently. There was no sound aboard. There was no light showing. He drew nearer, and drifted alongside. There was no mistaking the craft now. There, in dull and worn lettering, but plainly to be read, was the name on the bow, "Z. B. Brandt."

It was an exciting moment for Henry Burns. Two ideas met in conflict in his brain. One was, to hasten ash.o.r.e and alarm the Warren household; the other, to slip aboard the vessel and see if he could not arouse Harvey in the forecastle, and carry him off triumphantly then and there. The second idea overmastered him. It was too tempting to be resisted. Think of appearing in one brief half-hour at the old house, presenting Jack Harvey to their astonished gaze and saying, proudly, "Here he is-and without a warrant."

Henry Burns, cool enough at a crisis, made his skiff fast forward, and climbed aboard. Another moment, and he had stepped to the companion-way and slipped below.