The Launch Boys' Adventures in Northern Waters - Edward Sylvester Ellis (bookreader TXT) 📗

with so much zest was not the _Water Witch_, but a small runabout capable of high speed. The couple on board gave no attention to the larger craft, and the chagrined Alvin turned farther out into the bay and gradually headed up stream again. Chester came back from the front and chuckled:

"What a wild goose chase! The next thing to do is to make after the _Nahanada_ or the _Gardiner_. There will be as much sense in the one as the other."

Observing the change of course, Chester inquired:

"Where to now?"

"We may as well go back and pick up Mike. It seems to be growing light in the east."

"So it is; a memorable night in our experience is drawing to a close."

"I say, Chester," called the Captain, "I am sure someone was on this boat while we were away at Beartown."

A sudden suspicion took form in his mind.

"Is there enough light for you to see the name on the bow?"

"Of course."

"Take a look and tell me what it is."

Chester carefully leaned over and studied the gilt letters painted on the right of the prow corresponding to those on the left. Then he straightened up with a gasp:

"As sure as I'm a living sinner it's the _Water Witch_!"


CHAPTER XXIII

THROUGH THE FOG

It was an astounding discovery.

With never a thought of the grotesque mistake, both youths had boarded the launch believing it to be the _Deerfoot_; they had pursued the imaginary fugitive only to awaken to the fact that she was not a fugitive, and that they had unconsciously stolen the property of the burglars, which must have been lying so near their own craft that the slight difference of location was not noticed.

Chester stepped down and seated himself at the elbow of his chum.

"Here are only four seats instead of six. Why didn't we notice it before?"

"Because we were too much occupied with other things, or rather were both struck with blindness just then. As Mike would say, I'm completely flabbergasted."

"And I'm with you. What's to be done now?"

"Tell me where the _Deerfoot_ is."

"Ask me something easier. She may be lying where we left her, or twenty miles away."

"We should have heard her if she came down stream."

"She may have gone up the river and around into the Sheepscot."

"And back to the former hiding place of this boat or to a different one--the 'Beautiful Isle of Somewhere,'" said Alvin grimly.

"One place will serve as well as another. I wonder whether there was ever so wonderful a mix-up of launches since such craft were known."

Alvin shut off power and the two listened. From some point miles away came the hoarse growl of a steam whistle, but all else was still. He had hoped that they would hear the _Deerfoot's_ exhaust, but nothing of the kind came to their ears. He flirted the switch around and resumed the speed which was not above half a dozen miles an hour.

One of the plagues of the Maine coast is the dense fogs which sometimes creep far up the rivers. Such an obscurity now began settling over Montsweag Bay and Back River, shutting out the moonlight as well as the rays of the rising sun. Before Alvin was aware, he could not see either shore until he had run far over to the right and caught a shadowy sight of the pines, spruce and firs which lined the bank. The air dripped moisture and, though it was summer, it grew chilly.

While gliding slowly forward they heard a steamer's bell, accompanied by occasional blasts from her whistle. She was feeling her way down stream and sounding warnings to other craft. By and by the beat of her screw and the ripple of the water from her bow sounded so near that Alvin edged closer to land. In the heavy mist loomed a minute later a bulky steamer, surging southward at sluggish speed, the crew, as seen for an instant, looking like saturated ghosts.

The boat was quickly swallowed up, her bell still tolling, with blasts from her whistle at short intervals.

Seated as described, the two youths discussed what was the best thing to do. It seemed advisable to return to the point from which they started, that is, near Beartown landing. There was not one chance in a hundred that they would find the _Deerfoot_ there, but such a thing was not impossible. That which made this policy seem wise was the likelihood of again meeting Detective Calvert. The news of the attempted robbery of the Beartown post office would be telegraphed far and wide, and he would be sure to hear of it at Wiscasset. It would not take him and his brother officer long to reach the village, where the lads could hope to see him.

It was certainly a singular coincidence that the launch should be twice stolen in so brief a time, and the owner grimly asked himself whether fate had not ordained that he was to lose it after all.

There was no light in the maze of conjecture that opened before them. Chester suggested an alarming complication.

"The _Deerfoot_ can outspeed any craft in the Maine waters. These burglars must have a hiding place, and we know there is no end to them among the bays, inlets, coves and islands that stud the rivers. Suppose they board the launch and speed away till all pursuit is thrown off the scent--something they can easily do--and then abandon the boat."

"We shall find her sooner or later, and Calvert will perhaps in this way get on their track."

"They can avert such danger by sinking her in deep water, where she may not be found for years."

"I have not thought of that. It looks as if they had the whip-hand. These fellows may have blundered last night, but it was solely through the sudden appearance of Mike on the spot, for they are no fools. If we try to get the best of them we shall get the worst, unless we have the help of Mr. Calvert."

"And the only way to gain that is to go back to Beartown."

"So it seems to me. What do you think?" asked the Captain.

"I know of nothing better. Wouldn't it be well to hit up the pace a little?"

"If this fog would only lift! But it seems to be growing thicker. We must feel our way."

While the Captain was doing this, his second mate looked over the _Water Witch_. Its resemblance to the _Deerfoot_ was remarkable. It was probably two or three feet shorter, but that was the only noticeable difference. The model was the same, even to the color of the paint used. As has already been said, however, there were only four seats while the _Deerfoot_ had six. The similarity of the craft was proved by the fact that Alvin Landon boarded and ran it for quite a number of miles before even the slightest suspicion entered his mind.

All landmarks were shut from view until, as may be said, the launch ran against them. The boys had little or no acquaintance with the river they were ascending, and only here and there were they able to identify certain landings or towns from their previous study of the map. Alvin knew he was creeping northward, and sooner or later must reach the point which he left during the latter part of the night. Even the landing would not be recognized without close study, and possibly not even then.

Had not the noise made by the progress of the launch shut out a certain sound and had not the dense fog hidden something from sight, the two would have made a startling discovery within the hour which followed their turning back. But no knowledge of that nature came to them.

The boys agreed that they would not reach their destination until long after their change of course. Neither noted when this was done, but Chester now looked at his watch and found it showed a few minutes to seven.

"A good hour for breakfast," he remarked, "and my appetite is with me, as I am sure yours is with you."

Alvin nodded and kept his eye on the receding shore and the water ahead.

"Mike is to be envied, for the good woman and especially the daughter will give him the best their house can afford. These boats don't carry a large stock of provisions--who knows but there's something of the kind on board?"

He asked the Captain to rise while he lifted the cushioned lid of the locker upon which he had been sitting. The next moment Chester uttered a joyous cry.

"Hurrah! we're in luck!"

He held up a large paper bag into which he had peeped. It contained half a dozen plump ham sandwiches.

"While we are about it suppose we see what other treasures are in the ship's chest."

They found a most interesting stock indeed. Five black pieces of muslin, each with two peep-holes, several sets of false whiskers, two pairs of brass knuckles, three metal rings from each of which dangled more than a dozen keys of varying sizes, a box of revolver cartridges, a formidable knife, some twine and a number of articles of no importance.

"They tell their story," said Chester, holding them up one after another for his chum's inspection. "If the officers of the law arrest us, we shall have to depend upon our friends to prove an alibi."

"Meanwhile there is no need to keep those sandwiches waiting."

"Wonder if they are poisoned," laughed Chester, as he passed one to his chum, and sank his teeth in another. "Anyhow, I'm going to take chances."

"So am I. They don't seem to have any cooking utensils on board, so coffee and warm food are to be denied us."

The Captain ate with one hand on the steering wheel, and frequent glances ahead. Now and then they would find themselves approaching a sharp projection of land, around which the launch was steered, and then perhaps would glide past a cunning looking cove, too narrow to admit a boat of large size. Once, while doubling a cape, they came within a hair of running down a small rowboat propelled by a single occupant. He shouted angrily for the steersman to keep a better lookout.

"I'm sorry!" called back Alvin; "but the fog bothers us. Will you please tell me how far it is to Beartown landing?"

"'Bout half a mile, mebbe a little more. Who are you?"

Alvin gave his right name and thanked the man for his information.

"I thought that was about the distance," said Chester, as he resumed the duty of sentinel. "I can't recognize any landmark, and couldn't if there was no fog to play the mischief with our sight."

Alvin stopped the engine two or three times while approaching the spot, in order to listen for sounds of the other boat. They heard nothing, but had they not waited too long to make the experiment, they would have picked up some exceedingly interesting information.

"Here's the spot!" called Chester a few minutes later, as he identified the spiderlike landing from which a road led to Beartown.

"Then we have passed the place where the launch lay up last night. We may as well go beyond and be out of the way of folks."

A hundred yards north of the wharf, too far