New England -- Juvenile fiction; Sailing -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
One by one, as the light strengthened, the others stumbled on deck,
yawning and rubbing their sleepy eyes. The _Adventurer_ was anchored
more than a mile from the inner harbour, and between her and Ten Pound
Island lay a big, rusty-red salt bark, high out of water, and five
fishing schooners. But these, aside from the disreputable little
gill-netter, were all the craft that met their gaze.
"Either," said Steve wearily, "she never came in at all or she's up in
the inner harbour. I'll wager she didn't get out again last night. We'll
go up and mosey around, I guess. Ossie, how about some coffee?"
"I'll make some, Steve. Guess we'd better have an early breakfast too."
"It can't be too early to suit me," murmured Bert Alley, as he dragged
his feet down the companion way and toppled onto a berth. The
_Adventurer_ weighed anchor and in the first flush of a glorious Summer
dawn, chugged warily up the still harbour. She kept toward the eastern
shore and the boys swept every pier and cove with sharp eyes. Then
Rocky Neck turned back them and they picked a cautious way over sunken
rocks to the entrance of the inner harbour. By this time it was broad
daylight and their task was made easier. Still, as the inner harbour was
nearly a mile long and a good half-mile wide, and indented with numerous
coves, the search was long. They nosed in and out of slips, circled
basins and ran down a dozen false clues supplied by sailors on the
fishing schooners that lined the wharves. And, at seven o'clock they had
to acknowledge defeat. The _Follow Me_ was most surely not in Gloucester
Harbour. Nor, for that matter, was there a cabin-cruiser that resembled
her in any way. It was the latter fact that puzzled them, for they had
somehow become convinced that the darkened craft that had led them past
the breakwater last night was, if not the _Follow Me_, at least a boat
of her size. "And," said Harry Corwin, "we know that that boat did come
in here, for we saw her light disappear behind the breakwater. Let's
look around again."
"If she came in for gasoline," said Phil, "we might find out whether she
got it. There can't be many places where she could fill her tanks." The
_Adventurer_ was slowly rounding a point that lay between the cove from
which she had just emerged and Western Harbour, and Wink Wheeler, who
was sitting on the rail on the starboard side of the deck, gave
utterance to an exclamation of surprise and pointed ahead to where a
drab-coloured power-boat had suddenly emerged into sight nearly a
half-mile away.
"Look at that!" he cried.
"That's not the _Follow Me_, you idiot," said Joe.
"No, but where'd she come from?" demanded Wink.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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