Jack gave a peculiar whistle and the next instant the same light the boys had seen earlier in the evening shone through the chinks of the hovel.

“Well, he’s awake, at any rate,” remarked Jack with a grin, “now to find out where the boat is.”

As the wretched figure of the beach-comber appeared Jack hailed him roughly.

“Where’s that boat, Hank?”

“Been cruising off and on here since eleven o’clock,” rejoined the other sullenly, “ah! there she is now off to the sou’west.”

He pointed and the boys saw a red light flash twice seaward as if some one had passed their hands across it.

“All right, give him the answer,” ordered Jack.  “We’ve got to hurry if we’re to be back before the captain and those brats of boys get after our trail.”

Hank at Jack’s order dived into the hut and now reappeared with the smoky lantern.  He waved it four times from side to side like a brakeman and in a short time a steady “put-put!” told the watchers that a motor boat was approaching.

“Now for your dinghy, Hank,” urged Jack, “hurry up.  You move like a man a hundred and ninety years old, with the rheumatism.”

“Well, come on, then,” retorted Hank, “here’s the boat,” pointing to a cobbled dinghy lying hauled up above the water line, “give me a hand and we’ll shove off.”

The united strength of the three soon had the boat in the water and with Hank at the oars they moved steadily toward the chugging motor boat.

“Well, Sam, you’re on the job, I see,” remarked Jack as the two craft ranged alongside and Sam cut off the engine.

“Oh, I’m on the job all right,” rejoined Sam, feeling much braver now that the other two had arrived, “have you got them all right?”

“Right here in this bag, and some more in this, my bucko,” chuckled Jack as he handed the two sacks over to Sam.

“Ha! ha! ha!” chortled Bill under his breath as he climbed out of the cobble into the motor boat, “won’t there be a fine row in the morning.”

“Well, come on; start up, Sam.  We’ve no time to lose,” ordered Jack as he and Bill got aboard, “good night there, Hank.”

“Good night,” rejoined Hank quietly enough, as the motor boat moved swiftly off over the moonlit sea.  He added to himself, “It won’t be a very ‘good night’ for you, my lad, if you don’t pay me as handsomely as you promised.”

And chuckling to himself till his shoulders shook, Hank resumed his oars and rowed back to the miserable shanty he called home.

CHAPTER VIII

THE STOLEN UNIFORMS

Rob and his old friend lost no time the next morning in getting down to the water-front to make inquiries about the captain’s missing boat.  To their astonishment, however, almost the first craft that caught their eyes as they arrived at the L wharf to begin their search was the old sailor’s motor dory, to all appearances in exactly the same position she had occupied the preceding night when the captain moored her.