There, off the port bow, about an eighth of a mile from shore, was something that did look strangely like a human head bobbing along; and if there wasn’t an arm lifted again and again from the water, as of some one swimming a side-stroke, why, then Tom Harris was dreaming, or seeing some seaman’s phantom. He had to believe his own eyes, though; and yet how could it be, away down at this end of the island, where there were no cabins of any sort—and the crew up beyond? “Jack, Henry, Bob,” he whispered, excitedly, “there’s a queer thing swimming just ahead there. It may be a big fish or a seal, but it looks different to me.” “That’s no fish,” cried Harvey, springing to his feet. “It’s some one swimming. I’ll bet it’s one of the crew. Little Tim Reardon, most likely. Just like the little chap to try to surprise us. He’s the best swimmer I ever saw. Learned it around the docks up the river before he was seven years old.” If there was any doubt in their minds it was dispelled by a faint halloo from the swimmer, accompanied by a warning cry for them to make no noise. “That’s queer,” said Harvey. “Something’s up when Tim doesn’t want a noise. I wonder if anything has gone wrong.” Little Tim, climbing aboard a few moments later, and telling his story in excited tones, quickly apprised them that things were decidedly wrong up the Thoroughfare. Wrong indeed! The yachtsmen were thunderstruck. Jack Harvey brought the _Viking_ into the wind as near shore as he dared. “Bully for you, Tim!” he exclaimed. “Now take the dory and get ashore quick, and bring the rest of the crew down here.” Tim was away for shore in a twinkling. A few minutes later the four could be seen coming down on the run. They piled aboard the _Viking_ in a heap, and the yacht stood along up the Thoroughfare once more. “Well, what are we going to do, Jack?” inquired Henry Burns, as they turned a bend of the shore and came in sight of the mast of the _Seagull_. “I’m going to fight for that boat!” cried Harvey, angrily. “I’ll die for it, but they sha’n’t get it away from me.” “Of course we’ll fight for it if we need to,” said Henry Burns, calmly. “We will all stand by you, eh, fellows?” “Yes, sir,” exclaimed Tom and Bob together, feeling of their muscles, developed by canoeing and gymnastics. The crew also assented, less warmly. They had had their taste of it already. “All the same,” said Henry Burns, “it would be a huge joke on them, after they have gone to work and patched her up and floated her for us, to sail in and tow her out without their knowing it. Just imagine them waking up in the morning and finding the boat and the crew both gone.” “Yes, and we’ll catch it for that, too, I suppose,” groaned George Baker.