The motorboat had been tied fast so, although Joe was somewhat puzzled, he was nothing loath to share the adventure. Seizing the rope, he swung himself free of the motorboat, then began to climb nimbly toward the deck.
The rope cut into his hands and the climb taxed his strength, but in a few minutes he was near the top. Frank had moved back from the side into the darkness again.
He scrambled over the side and dropped lightly onto the deck. Frank was crouched in the shadows waiting for him.
And at that moment a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and a gruff voice said in his ear:
“All right, young fellow. Now we’ve got you both!”
XI
The Island
Joe Hardy started violently. Then, realizing that he had been trapped, he dropped flat on the deck, wriggling to one side, wresting himself free of the clutching hand. He heard the man who had seized him give an angry grunt, then he saw the man lunging at him from the shadows. He dodged the outstretched arm and rolled over and over on the deck.
“Grab him, Mike!” roared another voice from near by, and then Joe was dimly aware that another struggle had started near the rail. He leaped to his feet and raced along the deck, the sailor in pursuit.
“Over the side, Joe!” shouted a voice that he recognized as being that of his brother.
He fled, hearing the pounding of feet on the deck close behind him. A dark figure stepped out of the shadows immediately ahead.
“Collar him!” roared the man at his back. The dark figure advanced with outstretched arms. Joe stepped neatly aside, dodged as the man swooped at him and blundered to the left. The two men collided violently, and by the time they had disengaged themselves Joe was a good five yards away.
The schooner was in an uproar.
A revolver roared from the shadows and the darkness was cleft by a crimson splash.
“Harbor thieves!” yelled a voice from behind. “Catch ’em!”
Footsteps pounded on the deck. Shouts and muttered imprecations rang out. A light flared from somewhere ahead. Out of the shadows rose a man who lunged fiercely at Joe, grappled with him, and they fell to the deck together. Joe managed to wrench himself free and rolled to one side, scrambling to his feet.
He heard a splash near by and a shout. “Over the side!” he could hear Frank calling again. His brother’s voice was far below and he knew that Frank must have dived from the rail.
He was not far from the side of the schooner, and he raced for the rail just as half a dozen figures came plunging out of the gloom, their heavy boots thudding tremendously on the deck. Again the revolver crashed out and again the tongue of crimson flame licked its way through the blackness. The bullet passed within a few inches of Joe’s head, and he ducked instinctively.
He reached the rail. Desperately, he scrambled up. But just as he poised for the dive a great hand closed about his ankle and someone seized the back of his coat. He felt himself dragged back, but with his free foot he kicked out. The grasp of his pursuer relaxed and Joe heard him grunt from the impact. The man staggered back.
The moment he was free, Joe went over the side.
He struck the cold water of the bay with a splash and went far down into the depths. Then he found himself rising again and at last he bobbed up over the surface.
He did not know where the motorboat was, but he swam ahead, at the same time keeping a wary eye above. He could see dark figures silhouetted above the side of the vessel and he could hear voices.
“He’s down there!” declared a gruff voice.
“I almost had him!” shouted another. “I grabbed him just as he was going over, but he kicked me in the jaw.”
“How many were there?” asked another sailor.
“Two,” declared the gruff voice. “Harbor thieves—both of ’em. Come sneakin’ aboard, one at a time. I caught one of ’em peepin’ down into the galley where the cabin boy was peelin’ potatoes and I followed him till he went back to the side, so I figured he had the rest of his pals down below. I grabbed him and clapped my hand over his mouth and made him wave for ’em to come up. But there was only one come up and Bill here grabbed him, but he got away.”
“Both of ’em get away?”
“Yeah! I hope they drown.”
Then a thrill of fear ran through Joe as he heard one of the men say:
“Keep quiet! Listen! Don’t you hear someone swimming down there?”
The voices died down. Joe could see the figures leaning over the side as the sailors intently peered down into the darkness. He ceased swimming to tread water quietly.
“Take a shot at him!” advised someone.
Joe let himself sink beneath the surface and hardly had he gone beneath the waves than he heard the muffled report of a revolver and a splash near by. He swam beneath the water until his lungs were almost bursting. Then, when he could stand it no longer, he came to the surface again. He was deep in the shadow of the ship and he had left the sailors behind, still watching the place where he had gone down.
“I don’t believe there was anyone there,” muttered one of the men in a disappointed tone.
“No, I guess they both got away,” agreed another. “We scared ’em off, anyway.”
“Did they steal anything?”
“No. They didn’t have time. I nailed the first one before he’d been on the ship long. I guess he just went on ahead to see if everything was clear.”
“Aw, I’m goin’ to bed. As long as we
