"But we can't get into it."

"No, sir. But we can see it. I have an idea."

"I presume you have, Morgan," returned the ensign, smiling grimly. "And I have a glimmer of an idea myself."

When the men trooped in to breakfast the officer and Whistler Morgan stole away. The old woman was too busy just then to notice their absence.

In half an hour they found the place where the warrant officer and his companions had broken through the jungle. They retraced their course and soon came to the clearing in the wood.

It was a secret place, indeed. The cabin was ten feet square, built of heavy logs, and as Whistler had been told, had no window openings. The door of heavy planks was fastened by a huge hasp held in place by the padlock mentioned so particularly by Ikey Rosenmeyer.

"I guess we can't get into it without tools," said the ensign.

"I don't suppose so, sir. But see that pole on top of the cabin? That had the upperworks of a wireless attached to it, I'm sure. The bolts are still up there. It is no flagpole."

"Right again, Morgan," agreed Mr. MacMasters.

"And that piece of a letter to Linder," the boy eagerly reminded him.

"Don't you think with me, sir, that the old woman is linked up with the German spy system?"

"It seems reasonable. At least, I shall make a report as soon as we get away from the island. And the old woman should be watched, too."

"Indeed she should!" cried Whistler. "What do you suppose she meant, Mr.

MacMasters, about our _Kennebunk_ being sunk?"

"The speech was fathered by the wish, perhaps."

"But she seemed so certain--so a.s.sured," murmured Whistler.

He was not satisfied by this explanation of Mr. MacMasters, and was silent all the way back to Mag's cabin. They came in sight of the place just as the men poured out of the cabin in great excitement.

"What do you suppose is the matter with them now?" demanded the ensign.

But he spied the cause of the excitement as soon as Whistler did.

Crossing the sound was a swift revenue cutter, and one of the seamen, under direction from Mr. Mudge, leaped upon a bowlder and began to signal, semaph.o.r.e fashion.

The signals were returned and the cutter swung in sh.o.r.eward and soon dropped a boat for the castaways. The shipwrecked seamen from the _Kennebunk_ swarmed down to the strand.

Mr. MacMasters whispered to Whistler that they would have their breakfast aboard the Coast Guard boat. Then he went to the scowling old woman who, after all, had been a most hospitable hostess. Some of the sailors had given her money in small sums; but the ensign forced her to accept an amount that he thought generous payment for what she had done for them, and Mag seemed to agree.

"Yo' Yankees air free-handed already," she drawled. "But that won't save you, Mr. Officer, from the trouble that's heaped up for you-uns."

"What is the nature of this trouble?" asked the ensign curiously.

"Death an' destruction," said the old woman. "Death and destruction. Yo'

fine big ship, the _Kennebunk_ ship, will be blowed sky-high. It's a comin'! Mark Old Mag's prophecy, Mr. Officer."

"We shall all have to go on and do our duty just the same, Mag," said Mr. MacMasters, seriously. "And if a sailor does his duty, he's done his all. The rest is in G.o.d's hands."

"Don't blaspheme, Mr. Yankee!" warned the old woman. "The Lawd ain't studyin' 'bout he'pin' you-uns none. He's on the other side already."

The boat from the cutter had to return a second time before all the castaways were transferred to the revenue vessel. Whistler went in the last boat with Ensign MacMasters.

When they were on the cutter's deck the young fellow heard Mr.

MacMasters ask at once about the character of the old woman, and of any other people who might belong on the island.

"They're under suspicion," the commander of the cutter said briefly.

"The Department has its eye on them. On that old woman, too."

Mr. MacMasters asked if anything was known about the small cabin back in the forest. The revenue officer listened eagerly.

"Ah-ha! That is something of moment, Ensign. I shall surely be glad to hear all about that. But we must be brisk. Do you know that your Captain Trevor is combing the sea and the coast with wireless messages for you?"

"He must have heard that we lost our steamer."

"That was relayed last night to the _Kennebunk_, I believe. The Huns are sowing many mines in these waters. There is a flock of U-boat chasers and destroyers out after the German submarines.

"But there is something else of moment in the wind," added the revenue officer. "The _Kennebunk_," he added, mysteriously, "will not be long in these waters."

"No?"

"It is expected that there will be a great naval movement on the other side. The report of the _Kennebunk's_ manoeuvres, and her gun record, is said to be so good that she may be sent across."

Whistler, standing by, could scarcely suppress a cry of delight.

"What do you think of that, Morgan?" the ensign cried. Then to the revenue officer: "After this cruise, I suppose you mean, sir?"

"She may be sent on the jump--and within a few hours. I have orders to take you to sea at once and find the _Kennebunk_. Our operator is sending out feeler messages for the battleship right now."

"Then you will do nothing toward looking into this nest of trouble-makers on the island--if there is such--immediately?"

"Not until we return."

"And then," said Mr. MacMasters seriously, "if you do stir up these snakes, look for a fellow named Franz Linder. He is wanted in Elmvale, up there in New England, for blowing up a dam, destroying munition factories and drowning twelve innocent people. We'll be glad, Morgan here, and I, to hear about the capture of that scoundrel."

CHAPTER XXII

THE RACE

The revenue cutter was a speedy craft, and by midforenoon she was far outside the string of islands near which the crew of the _Kennebunk's_ steamer under Ensign MacMasters had experienced so many adventures.

The wireless operator picked up the superdreadnaught at last. She was two hundred miles away, and when she gave her course to the cutter the boys noticed that it occasioned a deal of excitement upon the quarterdeck.

Unless the message is spread on the notice-board by the door of the wireless room, the members of the crew of any vessel are not likely to know what is going on in the air. The operator, like the usual telegraph operator, is bound to secrecy.