"Look right over there to the north-westward, sir, and you'll make out that drab-hulled seventy-footer. She's just coming into sight."

"I see her," nodded Mr. Seaton.

Captain Halstead took the gla.s.ses again, studying both the seventy-footer and the freighter intently, judging their relative speeds and positions.

"Dalton, or his friend, Lemly, has nicely calculated the drab boat's run," declared the young skipper of the "Restless," "Dalton's craft is in fine position to stop the freighter. But we'll reach the 'Fulton'

first, and by some minutes, too, sir. The drab boat looks like a good one, but I believe we're a shade faster in the stretch."

"What are we going to do when we overhaul both craft?" wondered Powell Seaton, aloud.

"Why, sir, it will be easy enough to make the 'Fulton's' captain refuse to take any such pa.s.senger as Dalton."

"How?" demanded Mr. Seaton.

"Just inform the 'Fulton's' captain that Anson Dalton is a fugitive from justice. If you do that, the freighter's captain isn't going to take any chances on getting into subsequent trouble with Uncle Sam.

The captain will simply decline to receive him as a pa.s.senger on the high seas."

Powell Seaton looked very cheerful for a moment. Then a look of dark doubt crossed his face.

"That will be all right, Halstead, unless it happens that the captain of the 'Fulton' is a man on the inside of some official affairs down in Brazil. If that be so, then your freighter's captain may recognize Dalton as a man of consequence--one to be served at all hazards. For, if a steamship captain of the Langley line must be careful to stand well with the United States authorities, he must also be no less careful to keep in the good graces of some of the cliques of Brazilian officers. So what if Dalton goes aboard the freighter, and her captain sends us a derisive toot of his whistle?"

Tom Halstead's face showed his instant uneasiness.

"If that turns out to be the case, sir," he whispered, "you've lost your last chance to stop Anson Dalton. He goes to Brazil with all the papers for locating the diamond mine, and you and your syndicate friends lose the whole big game!"

CHAPTER XII

THE SEARCHLIGHT FINDS A "DOUBLE"

Yet, though his confidence in success had received a severe jolt, Captain Tom reached out for the megaphone.

"Run in straight and close, Hank," he ordered. "I want every possible second of conversation before that drab boat gets within talking distance of the 'Fulton.'"

The "Restless" and the freighter were now within a mile of each other, and almost head-on. The drab boat, about two miles away, had altered its course so as to pick up the freighter at a more southerly point.

"Run to your table, Joe," commanded the young skipper, "and notify the 'Fulton' that we are going to hail her for a brief pow-wow."

The speed with which young Dawson worked was shown by the fact that, when still half a mile away, the big freighter, hailed by wireless, began to slow down speed. It was plain that she was going to lie to in order to hear the whole of the hail from the "Restless."

"Great Scott, though! Look at that!" suddenly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom Halstead.

The drab seventy-footer had suddenly gone about, making fast westerly time for the sh.o.r.e.

"Go about after the seventy-footer, Hank," almost exploded Halstead, in the intensity of his excitement over this new move. "Dalton doesn't seem to want to try the freighter now. Follow Dalton back to sh.o.r.e."

"But the 'Fulton's' slowing down. You're going to show him the politeness of telling the freighter's captain what it was all about, ain't you?"

"Let Joe do it," replied Tom, tersely. "What's the wireless for?"

Just at this moment Joe Dawson appeared from below.

"Our apologies to the freighter, Joe," called Skipper Tom. "Tell him we're after the drab boat. Tell him that our game is to stop a fugitive from getting out of the United States."

Joe again appeared just as the freighter began to make full headway once more.

"Captain Carson sends you his compliments from the 'Fulton,' Tom, for chasing the fugitive off."

"And now, we're going to chase that fugitive in," uttered Halstead, grimly. "By George! Look at the way that drab boat is beginning to travel. Joe, we can't let her lose us in this fashion."

As the "Fulton" pa.s.sed out hull down, and then finally vanished on the southern horizon, the chase after the drab seventy-footer became lively and exciting.

"Can you make out Dalton aboard of her?" asked Powell Seaton, as Tom stood forward, leaning against the edge of the forward deck-house, the marine gla.s.s as fast to his eyes as though glued there.

"No, sir. If Dalton is aboard, he's keeping out of sight in the cabin."

"Did you see, when the drab boat was more head-on, whether Lemly was at the wheel?"

"The man at the wheel wasn't Lemly, sir, though I believe that fellow is on board as the actual captain," Halstead answered.

"Humph! Is the Drab going to get away from us?" questioned Hank, wonderingly. "My, look at her bow cut water!"

"She's a faster boat than I thought," Tom responded. "But we don't mean to let her get away. Joe, how are we going on speed?"

"I couldn't get another revolution out of the twin shafts without overheating everything," Dawson replied, seriously. "Honestly, Tom, if this speed doesn't suit, I'm afraid we'll have to make the best of it."

"Then don't lose a single inch by bad steering, Hank," Halstead directed, looking around at his helmsman. "Whenever you want relief, let me know."

For five miles the drab seventy-footer kept her lead, though she did not seem able to increase it. That craft was still heading sh.o.r.eward, and now the low, long, hazy line of the coast was in sight, becoming every minute more plain.

"They're going to head straight for the sh.o.r.e, unless they've some slicker trick hidden up their sleeves," declared Tom Halstead.

"I wonder that they're running so hard from us," mused Powell Seaton.

"Most likely, sir," responded the young skipper, "because Dalton and Lemly believe we have officers aboard. Of course they know--or suspect--that warrants are out charging them with stealing the 'Restless' the other night."

"Suppose Dalton and Lemly are not aboard that boat?" challenged Mr.

Seaton, suddenly.

Tom Halstead's lower jaw sagged for just an instant.

"Of course, there's that chance. We may have been fooled, and we may be chasing a straw man in a paper boat right at this minute, sir. Yet, if Dalton were out on the water, with his stolen papers, he'd want to get nowhere else but to Brazil. If he isn't on the water, then he's not trying this route to your Brazilian enemies, and we might as well be out here as on Lonely Island."

As the boat in the lead neared the coast Halstead again kept the marine gla.s.s to his eyes.

"There's a little river over yonder," he observed.