The voices died away.
Relieved, Joe swam on. In a few minutes he caught sight of a dark shape ahead. It was the motorboat.
Silently, he swam toward it until he had reached the side. A voice whispered:
“Is that you, Joe?”
“Yes.”
Frank had already gained the boat. He now leaned over the side and grasped Joe’s hand, helping his brother on board. Dripping wet, they both crouched in the boat.
“Lucky they didn’t see the Sleuth tied down here,” whispered Frank. “I’ve been waiting here for you. I thought sure they had you.”
“It was a close call. They mistook us for harbor thieves, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Chet?”
“It wasn’t Chet after all.”
“No?”
“It was the cabin boy. I peeped into the galley and there he was, peeling potatoes. But it was another fellow altogether. He looked like Chet. So I started back and I had just reached the side when a sailor grabbed me. He kept his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t call out. Then he grabbed my arm and made me wave over the side.”
“I thought you were motioning for me to come on up.”
“It was a bad mess. Oh, well, we’re out of it, if we can only get away from here quick enough. I think we’d better wait for a while until the excitement dies down.”
The boys waited in the darkness. Gradually the schooner became silent once more. The sailors had evidently returned to the forecastle. At length Frank judged that they could escape without trouble.
Fortunately, the engine of the motorboat responded immediately, and although the noise of their departure was sufficient to arouse the ship, the Sleuth shot away into the gloom so swiftly that their escape was assured. When they were several hundred yards away they looked back and they could see the lights of lanterns moving about near the stern, but they knew that the sailors would not put out after them. Even if they had, the motorboat would not be overtaken.
They circled about in the bay for some time and eventually put back into the harbor for the night. At first they were afraid that the men on the schooner might have given word to the harbor police to be on the lookout for them but, as Frank said, their consciences were clear and they had no doubt of their ability to explain the situation satisfactorily.
However, they were not intercepted and, in Rock Harbor, they tied the motorboat up for the night, going to a nearby hotel, where a sleepy night clerk assigned them to a room.
Early next morning they were away again.
“Blacksnake Island isn’t far away now,” said Frank. “We should be there in a few hours at the most.”
There was no sign of the other boys, but Frank and Joe decided that they would not wait, as the others would overtake them at the island or would meet them on their return. They had replenished their boat with oil and gasoline, they had again inspected their supply of provisions and were in every way in readiness for the last lap of their search.
It was mid-morning before they came within sight of Blacksnake Island. It lay not far from the coast, a low, lean, sinister stretch of swampy land, terminating in rocky bluffs on the seaward side. There was a dank, heavy growth of vegetation and the island seemed to steam in the summer heat.
“Ugly looking place, isn’t it?” remarked Frank, as the motorboat sped on its way.
The craft drew closer to the island. There was no sign of life. As they came nearer the boys could distinguish the fetid swamp land facing the coast, the still, silent trees that seemed to droop beneath the scorching sun and they felt a qualm of repulsion. Blacksnake Island was not an inviting place. It lived up to its name. It was a fit abode for serpents—not for human beings.
When they were within half a mile of the island, they heard a vague but familiar sound.
“Motorboat!” exclaimed Frank.
They listened. They could hear the sound of a motorboat, apparently approaching from the far side of the island. Frank spun the wheel.
“We’ll head down the channel. No use letting them think we’re bound for the island,” he said. “It’s not likely to have anything to do with our search, but it’s best to play safe.”
The Sleuth changed its course, so that Blacksnake Island was now to one side, and the motorboat appeared to be heading on down the coast. The Hardy boys scanned the dark bank of land intently.
The other boat appeared in view at last. It emerged slowly around the lower point, poking its nose inquisitively out into the channel as though to assure itself that the way was clear. Then it picked up speed and came surging out toward the mainland. At that distance, Frank and Joe could not readily distinguish the features of the men in the craft, but they saw that there were two of them. Frank’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the boat.
“Seems to me I’ve seen it before,” he remarked, picking up the binoculars. He raised them to his eyes and gazed long and earnestly at the speeding craft. Finally he handed the glasses to Joe. “What do you think?” he asked.
“Why, of course we’ve seen it before!” Joe exclaimed, after a brief inspection. “We saw that boat in Barmet Bay!”
Frank nodded.
“It’s the same motorboat that chased us the afternoon of the storm!”
XII
Into the Cave
Frank Hardy bent over the wheel.
“I’m going closer,” he said. “We’ll make absolutely sure of this.”
He altered the course of the boat so that it would intercept the other craft, at the speed they were going. Then he turned up his coat collar and drew his cap lower over his eyes.
“If it’s the same boat and if the same men are in it, we should be safe enough as long as they don’t recognize us. They saw us that day, but they’ve never seen the Sleuth. We’ll get
