Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence

They bore down rapidly upon him, once the boat had been turned around. But Jack knew only too well that a strong and desperate swimmer would be apt to give his pursuers a hard pull before they could get him. If Glenwood knew his business, as seemed evident, he would hold himself in readiness to duck under, just when they thought to reach over and grasp him.

“Now, steady while I nab him!” said the revenue man, leaning over the bow.

“He’s gone under, sir!” cried Jack, who was holding on to that serviceable boathook, with the idea that possibly he might find a chance to get it fast in the garments of the man in the water.

“Yes, I expected that,” replied the other. “And of course we don’t know just where he’ll come up again. Our only chance is to keep him going until even his iron muscles weaken. We hold the advantage, boys. Look on that side, Jack, and I’ll take care of this. George, be ready to work around or back up, as the case may be.”

Ten seconds later and Jack called out:

“Here he is, on this side, George!”

Then began one of the queerest experiences Jack had ever participated in. All of his hare and hound and paper chases must sink into insignificance after this hunt; for a desperate man was seeking to effect his escape.

Glenwood would wait until they were close upon him, meanwhile trying to recuperate. Then, at the critical instant, he would sink out of sight, and swim under water to the other side of the boat, or the rear, never ahead. In this way he kept them guessing; and besides, after the boat was started it was necessary for them to make more or less of a circuit before they could bear down on the fugitive again.

“What does he hope to gain by all this, sir?” asked George, when they had missed the swimmer for the fourth time, and were waiting for him to appear again.

“Oh! Glenwood is a keen one,” replied the government agent. “Depend on it he has several irons in the fire. Perhaps he expects to get a chance to land on the Canadian shore, where I could not very well chase him. Then again he keeps hoping that our good friend, the moon, will kindly hide again. That would give him all the opportunity he wants to come up, get a breath, and vanish without being seen. There he is, George; back up this time!”

So the merry chase continued – at least it may have seemed that to the two boys, but must have assumed a more serious aspect with the man they were after. Jack could not but admire the nerve and audacity of the swimmer. He even secretly began to hope Glenwood might get away; for after all it was none of their business, though the fellow was really a criminal, in that he was breaking the laws of the land.

But George had entered heart and soul into the game, and was determined to do all he could to assist the revenue man. He backed the boat so fast that soon the swimmer had to duck again.

“He’s getting weaker all the time, boys,” remarked the agent, in a satisfied tone. “We have only to keep this system of tactics up a little longer, and Glenwood will be only too glad to come in out of the wet, or drown.”

“Oh! I hope that doesn’t happen,” said George.

“Little fear,” replied the other. “Like most of us, Glenwood clings on to life, and always has hopes of escaping. Do you see him yet, either of you?”

“Not on this side,” replied Jack.

“And I don’t glimpse him here,” George went on.

“But he’s been under almost a full minute now, and that’s a long time for one as exhausted as he must be,” the agent remarked, seriously.

“Oh! I hope he hasn’t acted like I’ve known wounded ducks to do,” said George, “go to the bottom, and hold on to the eel grass until they drown. That would be terrible.”

“And if he’d only held out a few minutes more he might have had the chance he was looking for, sir,” said Jack; “for there’s another bunch of clouds making up toward the moon.”

“Just so, Jack,” remarked the revenue man, glancing aloft; “and I wager Glenwood knew that fact, too.”

“But where can he be, sir? It would be impossible for any one to stay under so long. I’m something of a swimmer myself, and I know I couldn’t,” George went on, anxiously.

“Sure he didn’t bob up quietly, take a breath or two, and sink out of sight again?” asked the other.

Both boys declared they were positive that such had not been the case. The revenue man remained there for another minute, as though pondering. Then Jack saw him look up and smile. He did not call out, but made a mysterious motion with his hand that seemed to call for silence.

Then Jack saw him creeping slowly and cautiously toward the stern of the boat. George stared with wide open eyes, as though the startling thought had come to him that their passenger had suddenly gone crazy. But if so, there was a method in his madness, and Jack had guessed it.

The stern of the Wireless was not an over-hang, but the customary square one of a speed boat. Still, any one in the water could hang on to the rudder, keeping clear of the propeller; and while the boat was stationary, be concealed from the view of those aboard, unless indeed, some inquisitive person thrust his head far out over the edge.

Undoubtedly the cunning Glenwood had conceived this to be a good plan, to rest, and wait for the cloud to cover the face of the moon, when he could dip again, and pass away under the water beyond reach of their limited vision.

Jack almost ceased to breathe, so intensely interested was he in watching the advance of the revenue man. It was a case of diamond cut diamond, apparently, and victory would go to the keener mind.

Now the agent was crawling over the stern, and evidently getting in readiness to suddenly swoop his arm down, with fingers extended, to clutch anything he might come in contact with there.

He made the movement with a celerity that reminded Jack of the swoop of a hawk on a pigeon. And apparently he must have gauged his action nicely; for immediately there arose a yell, and a threshing of the water followed; while the agent held on desperately, calling to the others for assistance.

Two hands were seen to clutch the brass rail; and then a head came into view.

“No need to yank my hair out; I’m coming aboard all right, Carson!” gasped the exhausted swimmer; but the government agent evidently looked upon him as a slippery customer, for he declined to release his clutch until the man had been pulled wholly into the boat, and stretched on his back in the bottom.

Jack felt a queer chill when he heard something “click,” and realized that for the first time in all his life he saw a prisoner hand-cuffed. But Glenwood did not appear to be very much cast down. He had faced this situation a long time, and evidently discounted all its terrors. He even laughed as soon as he got his breath.

“It was some fun while it lasted, Carson,” he said.

“And you came near playing it on me for good,” replied the other, laughing in his turn. “I only fell to your smart trick by accident. Seemed to me I felt something bump against the side of the boat, when none of us chanced to be moving. And then I figured what I would do myself in a similar case. That was how I came to hit on your game, Glenwood.”

“How about my friends; did they get away?” asked the other.

“George,” the agent went on, “turn around, and we’ll head back; if you’re in doubt I can tell you just where we’ll find the other boat, first of all, and then the island where your comrades are waiting.”

Then he turned to his prisoner, saying:

“Neither of them took the dare you set, Glenwood; and we got the upper hand of both in short order. Besides, there are three chaps with their legs tied up, on the island.”

“A clean sweep, you’ve made of it, then,” remarked the smuggler, disconsolately; “bagged the whole lot, and the stuff in the bargain. Well, I knew how it would be when I heard they were sending you up here, Carson. Sooner or later I guessed we’d be up against it, and meet with our finish. But it came quicker than I expected.”

He said nothing more, nor did the government agent seem disposed to enter into further conversation just then. Keeping at the elbow of the pilot, he watched him head the boat along toward where George thought the Flash would be found. And that his judgment was good they presently saw, when in the moonlight the other motor boat was discovered quite motionless on the river.

George gave a signal, which was immediately answered. When they drew alongside it was to find that both Clarence and Bully Joe were awaiting their coming with more or less eagerness.

“Thank goodness!” said the owner of the Flash; “now we’ll get rid of these ugly fellows. They just pounced down on us several days ago, and we’ve had to do what they wanted ever since. I hope, sir, you won’t bother taking us along with you, because we’ve had nothing to do with their games. We were prisoners, that’s right. I was threatened with all sorts of terrible things if I refused to run the boat as that man wanted.”

“Oh! I understand that, young fellow,” said Mr. Carson, pleasantly. “All I want you to do is to accompany us back to the island, carrying those you have aboard. I’ll relieve you of them there, and you can go about your business. I have no call out for you. But next time I advise you to be a little more careful whose company you accept. It got you into trouble once, and may again.”

“I declare I have no idea where our blooming old haunted island lies,” admitted George, frankly; “and I’ll have to ask you to stand by sir, to tell me how to steer.”

“That’s easily done, George;” laughed the other. “And you’ve been a big help to me, something I’ll not soon forget either. Clarence, keep as close by us as is safe; and we’ll have no more racing as we return, remember.”

Clarence had something on his mind, nor could he keep from saying what it was.

“Think you climbed up on me hand over fist, don’t you, George,” he remarked, as the two speed boats got under way once more. “Well, you’ve got another think coming, that’s what. He ordered me to hit up my hottest pace, and I told him I was doing it; but all the same I kept a bit in reserve. The Flashcan do better; and some fine day you’ll all get your eyes opened, perhaps. I played my little game to get rid of unwelcome passengers, leaving the question about which was the faster boat to be settled some other time. See?”

“That’s a likely story,” sneered George, who would not think of letting any one dim the glory that the dashing Wireless had so gallantly won; and least of all Clarence Macklin. “Tell that to the marines, will you? But if the chance ever comes I’ll try it all over with you for fair. Meanwhile don’t bother yourself boasting how you’re going to cut figure eight’s around me, with that pirate boat of yours. She looks dangerous; but in a race something besides looks counts. I’ve got it right here. That’ll be enough for you, Clarence,” and George declined to exchange any further words with the skipper of the defeated motor boat.

CHAPTER XXII – BUSTER’S HOUR OF TRIUMPH