“All right,” answered the voice.  “We’ve been waiting an hour for that order.  This playing police is dull business.”

And the smugglers heard the rattling of a chain, as if the anchor was being pulled up.

“Tell them to make haste,” whispered Frank.

“Come, hurry up there, now,” shouted Ned.

“Ay, ay,” was the answer.

And, in a few moments, the Sampson, propelled by four oars, shot past them, on her way down the creek.

“That’s what I call pretty well done,” said Ben, as soon as the coast-guards were out of hearing.

“I don’t,” said Ned.  “It goes against me to fool a fellow in that way; and my own friends, too.”

The smugglers now continued on their way, and a few strong pulls brought them within a short distance of the mouth of Ducks’ Creek; and Frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat’s head toward the shore, and, as soon as her keel touched the bottom, he and Ben sprang out, leaving Harry to watch the prisoner.

They had landed upon Reynard’s Island, and immediately started for the opposite side, to learn, if possible, what was going on upon the river.  Every thing was as silent as midnight; and the smugglers were obliged to move very carefully, for the slightest sound—­the snapping of a twig or the rustling of a leaf—­could be heard at a long distance.  After proceeding a quarter of a mile in this cautious manner, they reached the opposite side of the island.

“Well,” said Ben, after trying in vain to peer through the darkness, “how do matters stand?  I wonder if we could not have slipped by their police, and reached the island, before they knew it?”

“No, sir,” said Frank, “not by a good deal.  We should certainly have been captured.”

“How do you know?  I can’t see any thing.”

“Neither can I; but listen, and you will hear something.  They are taking their positions.”

The boys remained silent, and the suppressed murmur of voices, the strokes of muffled oars, and, now and then, a gentle splashing in the water, as of an anchor dropped carefully overboard, could be distinctly heard.

“I am still of the opinion,” said Ben, “that we could run the blockade before they could catch us.”

“And I still think that we should get caught,” said Frank.  “If we should attempt to hoist a sail, it could be heard across the river; besides, there is no breeze.”

“Then, try the oars.”

“They would overtake us before we had gone twenty rods.  You must remember that they outnumber us, six to one, and could easily tire us out, or cut us off from the island.  Wait until the breeze springs up, and then we will see what we can do.”

“Listen,” whispered Ben, suddenly; “some of the boats are coming down this way.  They are sending a division of the fleet to guard Ducks’ Creek.”