Harvey had, moreover, a critical eye for a good boat, and had noted the _Eagle_, when it had been in the harbour, with more than passing interest, and was certain now that he should know her again, even with a change of rig. Besides, he had the description furnished by Henry Burns and the other boys of the yacht they had seen, which corresponded in size with the _Eagle_. He had never been so aroused about anything before in all his life. The adventure that Henry Burns and the others had had with the two men that had been caught was an experience after his own heart. He would have given his whole summer’s fun to take part in that capture. But all the glory of that had been denied him; now he made a resolve that if any one succeeded in finding the vanished yacht it should be he. His activity was not destined to go all for naught, either, for on at least one occasion he was satisfied in his own mind that he had met with the yacht,—yes, and nearly come to close quarters with the man that sailed it. It was miles below Grand Island, for Harvey had for some days made up his mind that the man he sought had left the bay, since he had scoured it east and west and north and south in vain. It was down among some islands that lay out of the much travelled part of the bay, and not far from the Gull Island Thoroughfare. It was, in fact, just at the outer rim of the bay, where several channels through a chain of islands led out to sea. There were three of the crew aboard besides Harvey, only little Tim being left ashore to guard the camp. They had been cruising all evening among these islands, for it was a part of the coast with which Harvey was very familiar. They were carrying no lights, for the chances of being run down here were small, and, besides, it was a part of Harvey’s plan to be able to approach any chance craft unobserved. It had come on rainy, and the crew were for putting in at some harbour and lying snug, but Harvey would not hear of it. He had sailed until near midnight for about a week, and did not like to give it up. However, as a concession to his crew, and as it bade fair to blow up a nasty sea before many hours, Harvey had consented to beat back and forth under the lee of a small unnamed island, keeping a lookout down the bay for the little distance they could see through the rain. It seemed that some other craft was also willing to take the risk of sailing without lights, for, along about ten o’clock, a yacht, that might or might not be the one for which they sought, was beating up toward the island, with all dark on board. All at once the man that sat at the wheel left his boat for a moment to itself, so that it headed up into the wind with sails flapping, while he darted down into the cabin. He was gone only for a moment, but in that brief moment that he was below a light flashed in the cabin,—only a fleeting gleam of light, and then all was dark again.