Fairylike, indeed, was the scene, as every moment drew the curtain of darkness lower, and brightened the gleam of glowing lights. Yet wickedness lurked beneath those lights, and crime all too often rode the waves of this magic harbor. No fairy business was this before them, and no one understood that fact better than Willie did. Not for nothing had he listened to Larsen and his fellow smugglers on the pier, or watched them in their South Street den. He knew them for exactly what they were—reckless, wayward, desperate members of society, who observed the law only when it suited them or because they had to. Indeed this was no fairy business he was engaged in, but a desperate hunt for desperate men. On went the little fleet. Soon the chugging craft was abreast of Robbin’s Reef. Its warning gleam flashed bright across the waves. Beyond that light rose the towering shores of Staten Island, now made dim and indistinct by the dusk, the street lights climbing upward from the ferry along the sloping roads. Farther down the island shone the lights of Quarantine. Beyond was darkness—the great, abysmal darkness of the untamed sea. And somewhere out in that darkness rode men in motor-boats—desperate men they were seeking to catch. Night was upon them before the little fleet had passed the forts that guard the Narrows. Where the sub chasers were they had no idea. Somewhere out in the dark void before them, the fleet of steel-gray power boats was rushing through the night, with lights doused, in search of their prey. Through the Narrows went the _Surveyor_ at top speed, with her companion boats about her. On and on they pressed, alert for every sight and sound of incoming craft. But no boats passed them save one or two large steamers, the waves from which set the little patrol boats to dancing merrily. When they had gone as far as the chief deemed wise, Willie flashed out an order. “Take patrol stations and keep moving.” Across the narrow channel the little fleet spread out. Back and forth, each in its allotted portion of the river, the little craft moved slowly. A few hundred yards to the right they drove, then turned and patrolled for an equal distance to the left. Back and forth, back and forth, like sentries pacing their beats, the customs craft crept through the murky night. But so dense was the darkness that no one of them was visible to any of its companions. For not a light shone aboard the little fleet.