At two o'clock Thursday morning the Foote lay, with motionless engines and lights extinguished, to the southward of Jennie Graham Shoal, near Outer Duck Island. Smiley and Harper, with Wilson close at hand, stood leaning on the rail, watching a launch that the crew were lowering to the water. “Well,” said Dick, in a low voice, “it looks as if we might get them.” “Shouldn't wonder,” Wilson replied. He, too, was subdued by the strain. “Pretty dark, though.” “That isn't all on their side.” “No, perhaps it isn't. Going to put out both launches, eh?” “It looks that way.” Cautiously and swiftly the sailors worked. One launch, and then the other, was lowered into the water. “Pretty neat, ain't it?” whispered Pink. “Why, with this wind they've got to run in right by one or other of the boats to get to Burnt Cove. Would they let us sail the _Anne_ around, think, if they get her back?” Dick shook his head. Farther aft Beveridge was talking to Captain Sullivan. “It's the only thing to do, Captain. With him along, we can't miss her.” “I've nothing more to say. I don't like it; but he's your man.” “One thing more, Captain. It won't hardly be necessary to send an officer with me.” “But--” “You see Wilson and myself, and about four husky sailors, a couple of 'em to run the launch, will be enough, Why not just leave it that way? You might tell your men they're to take my orders.” His meaning was obvious to the Captain; but he hesitated. This man Beveridge was young and bumptious. Irregular things had sometimes to be done, but it were best that they should be done by a seasoned officer. Still, it was Beveridge's case. They walked together toward the prisoners. “Smiley,” said Beveridge, “I'm going to take you along. I guess there isn't much doubt you could tell your schooner in the dark?” “Tell her in the dark!” exclaimed Pink. “Why, he knows the squeak of every block!” So Dick went. The Captain added a fifth sailor for safety, and took time to give him a few quiet instructions before he joined the launch. Then they pushed off and slipped away into the night. For four hours after that, the only sound heard aboard the _Foote_, where Pink, sleepless, hung over the rail, guarded by a deep-chested sailor, was the occasional puff-puff of one of the launches as it changed its post. A dozen pairs of eyes were searching the dark, looking for any craft that might be coming from Michigan. As Captain Sullivan suspected, Beveridge's launch was over the Canadian boundary half an hour after she lost sight of the ship. Then Beveridge drew Dick back near the boiler. “Tell me this, Smiley. Do you think those fellows could possibly have got through before now?” “I haven't much doubt of it.” “What makes you think so?” “Because of the wind. It has never let down a minute since they started. If they lost no time at Spencer's, they could have done it easily.” “That's what I thought. Will you take the wheel and pilot us into Burnt Cove?”