Fantasy Football Challenge - Football Fanatics Library

Fantasy Football Challenge - Library of Books for Football Fanatics

Fantasy Football Challenge presents
The Adventure Club Afloat

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watch for gasoline stations, fellows." They found the first one at Annisquam, near where the yacht club pier stuck out into the channel. Steve sidled the _Adventurer_ up to a landing and, while Han held her with the hook, made inquiry of a grizzled man in faded blue jumpers. "We're looking for a motor-boat called the _Follow Me_," he explained. "Have you seen her?" The man shook his head. "What was she like?" he asked. Steve described her, aided by Harry Corwin, and the man pushed his old straw hat back, and rubbed his forehead reflectively. Finally: "There was a launch answerin' to that description stopped here about"--he gazed at the sun--"about two hours ago, I cal'ate. She was black, but she didn't have no name on her so far as I could see. I sold 'em thirty gallons o' gas an' they went on out toward the bar." "Who was on her?" asked Steve quickly. "Two or three men I never seen before. Three, I cal'ate there was. She wasn't here very long. They come up to the house an' got me up from the breakfast table. Said they was in a hurry. Come to think on it, boys, I believe they'd painted the name out on the stern. They ain't stolen her, have they?" "That's just what they have done," answered Steve. "Shove off, Han! Thank you, sir. About two hours ago, you say?" "Might be a little less than two hours. Well, I hope you get her. I didn't much like the looks of the fellers aboard her." "Where do you think they'd take her?" called Joe as the boat swung her stern around. "I dunno. They might switch around into the Essex River, or they might take her in Ipswich way, or they might head straight for Newburyport. If they wanted to hide her I cal'ate they might run in behind Plum Island somewheres." "Sounds pretty hopeless," said Steve as the _Adventurer_ took up her way again. "Look at this chart and see all the places she _might_ be, will you? It's a regular what-do-you-call-it--labyrinth!" "It certainly is," agreed Joe. "And there's a lot of shallows about here, too. Where's this Plum Island he spoke of?" Steve pointed it out, a seven-mile stretch of sand behind which emptied four or five small rivers. "Shall we try it?" he asked. "Might as well be thorough," Joe replied. "What do you say, Harry?" "I say yes. Seems to me they'd be mighty likely to slide into some such place if only to paint a new name on." "We'll have a look then," agreed Steve. The _Adventurer_ dipped her way across Squam Bar and Steve swung the wheel. "Southeast, one-fourth south," he muttered, looking from the chart to compass. "Watch for a black spar buoy off the lighthouse. If they took the _Follow Me_ into Essex Bay, though, we're running right away from her." To port, the sand dunes shone dazzlingly in the sunlight and a long stretch of snow-white beach kept pace with them as they made for the entrance to Plum Island Sound. Several boats, sailing and power craft, had been sighted, but nothing that looked in the least like the _Follow Me_. The sun climbed into a hazy blue sky and the day grew hot in spite of the light westerly breeze. Steve picked up his buoys, a black and then two red, and swung the cruiser in toward the mouth of the Ipswich River. The chart showed feet instead of fathoms in places and Steve slowed down cautiously until they were in the channel. They left Ipswich Light on the port beam and kept on past the river mouth and into the sound. "What happens," asked Harry Corwin, looking at the chart over Steve's shoulder, "when there aren't any soundings shown?" "Just what I was wondering myself," replied the navigator. "It doesn't tell you anything after you pass that last red spar buoy. Still, with those two rivers coming in beyond up there, there must be enough water for us if we can find it. I've about arrived at the conclusion that the _Follow Me_ was mighty well named, Harry. We've been following her for twelve hours, pretty near, and as things look now we'll be still following her a week from Christmas!" "I suppose," sighed the captain of the lost boat, "that what we should have done was report it to the police and stayed right where we were. Dad's going to be somewhat peeved if we lose that boat." "I thought she belonged to you and Tom," said Wink Wheeler. "So she does, but dad gave her to us and he's rather fond of her himself." "Well, it's too bad," Wink answered, "but I don't believe we'll ever find her now. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, this sort of thing. We don't even know for sure that she isn't down around New York somewhere by this time!" "Yes, we do," said Steve quietly. "We do? How do we?" "Because I'm looking at her," was the reply. Steve nodded ahead and pushed back the throttle. "If that isn't the _Follow Me_ I'll--I'll eat her!" CHAPTER XIII BULLETS FLY A half-mile or so beyond a black cruiser lay at anchor at the mouth of a cove on the island side of the sound. She was broadside-to and one look at her was enough for Harry Corwin. "It is!" he cried. "We've got her, fellows!" "Not yet," warned Phil as the fellows clustered from all parts of the boat. "That's her, but how are we going to get her back? Hadn't we better stop here, Steve, and decide what to do? Those men aren't going to give her up just for the asking, I guess." "Right," agreed Steve. "Bow anchor, Han! Let her go as soon as you're ready. Now then, fellows, let's think what's to be done." The _Adventurer_ pulled at the anchor line with her nose, found further progress stopped and slowly began to swing around with the tide. "There are three of them at least, according to the gasoline chap back there, and there are twelve of us, but if they have guns--" "We've got two revolvers," said Perry eagerly. "Shall I get them, Steve?" "Yes, fetch them up here, but we don't want to use them unless in self-defence. Don't forget the cartridges, Perry. Now suppose we mosey up to where we can talk to them, fellows." "That's the ticket," agreed Wink Wheeler. "If they get to acting ugly, why, I guess there are enough of us to handle them. I think the best way is to beat it right up there and tell them to hand the boat over." "And if they decline?" inquired Phil. "Go in and take it!" "And, as like as not, get shot full of holes! No, thanks!" This from "Brownie." "How would it do for some of us to land and keep out of sight and come

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