The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

“That is not to be wondered at, Dick,” went on Sam. “I understand there are scores of islands in Casco Bay. It isn’t likely these men from Boston would know the names of all of ’em.”

They remained around the entrance to Portland harbor until noon and then Dick ordered the captain to run in and land them.

“You might go up and down the docks a bit,” he said. “They might have slipped us after all.” They entered the harbor, passing the old lighthouse, and soon were within easy reach of the docks. They looked on all sides for the Mary Delaway, but in vain.

“We have missed her!” groaned Dick.

“What are you going to do next?” questioned Tom.

“See if I can’t find out in some way where the schooner went to – and also find out where Slay’s Island is located.”

“We might get a map of Casco Bay. That would have the names of the islands on it,” suggested Sam. “I know there are a great many of ’em, some of ’em quite small and others very large.”

At last they started to go ashore. They ran up to a dock where the tug was in the habit of landing when at Portland, and the boys walked to the gangplank that was put out for them.

“Look! look!” cried Tom, suddenly, and pointed to a motor boat lying alongside the steam tug.

“Well, I never!” gasped Sam.

The motor boat was a craft of fair size, and very gaudily painted, in red, blue and yellow. It was piled high with suit-cases, bundles and fishing outfits. At the wheel was a tall young man, smoking a cigarette – a stranger to the Rovers. In the bow, also smoking, were two other young men, Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur.

CHAPTER XXIII

ABOARD THE MARY DELAWAY

“Hold on there, you!” bawled Jerry Koswell.

“Why, it’s the Rovers!” ejaculated Bart Larkspur. “How did they get here?”

“They are following us, that’s what!” stormed Koswell. “And I won’t have it!”

“What do you want?” asked Dick, as he walked to the end of the tug nearest to the motor boat.

“I want to know what right you’ve got to follow us?” returned Jerry Koswell, sourly.

“Who said we were following you?”

“Oh, I know you are. Didn’t you follow us to Boston, too? I want to know what it means?”

“Maybe it means that we are going to have you arrested,” put in Tom, with a side wink at his brothers.

“Arrested!” gasped Larkspur, and turned pale. “You shan’t do it!”

“I want you to stop following us,” went on Koswell.

“Go ahead – don’t talk to them any more!” whispered Larkspur, uneasily. “Let us get away as soon as we can.”

“I am not afraid,” answered Koswell, boastfully.

“But they may have us locked up!”

“What’s the row about?” asked the young man who was at the wheel.

“Oh, it was a row we had at college, Alf. Those fellows were in the wrong, but they made the Head believe otherwise, and we had to – er – resign,” answered Jerry Koswell. “Well, go ahead, if you want to,” he added.

“Where are you going?” asked Tom, as the motor boat commenced to move from the dock.

“We are bound for – ” began the stranger.

“Don’t tell them, Alf!” begged Larkspur. “Go ahead – let’s get out.”

“If you don’t tell us where you are going – ” began Sam, when Dick stopped him.

“Let them go – we haven’t time to bother with them now,” said the eldest Rover boy. “We have other fish to fry.”

“As you say, Dick. But we ought to scare the wits out of them if nothing else.”

“We’ll do it – some day,” put in Tom.

As the motor boat swept past they saw that the craft was named the Magnet. Soon some other boats coming in hid it from view.

On going ashore, the Rover boys made diligent inquiries concerning the Mary Delaway and at last learned that the schooner was expected by a certain transportation company some time that afternoon, to take on a cargo of lumber for Newark, New Jersey.

“I don’t know what we can do excepting to wait,” said Dick.

“Let us go down the harbor to meet the schooner,” said Tom. “Then Sobber and Crabtree and the others won’t have any chance to land in secret.”

“Do you think they’ll try to land here, Dick?”

“Honestly Tom, I don’t. It is more than likely the captain of the schooner will land that crowd on some island before he comes into Portland.”

“Slay’s Island?”

“Yes – if there really is such a place.”

The steam tug left the dock and ran down to the neighborhood of Portland Light. Here they cruised around for nearly two hours, when old Larry Dixon gave a shout:

“I see her! I see her! There’s the Mary Delaway!”

“Where?” asked the three Rovers, excitedly.

“There!” And the old sailor pointed with his hand. “I know her by the two patches on her mainsail and the slit in her jib.”

The steam tug was headed in the direction of the incoming schooner, and before long the two craft were within hailing distance of each other.

“Aboard the schooner!” cried Dick.

“Aboard the tug!” was the answering hail.