“Bosh!” roared Vinton in a loud guffaw.  “They couldn’t do it!  Let ’em try!”

“Yes,—–­let ’em!  But meanwhile, we’re out to put the kibosh on this smuggling.  By the way, Vinton, now that you’ve made your report, you can turn around again when you’ve got the wind, and go back up along the coast.  No need to go to Key West now.”

“Hum-mp!” grunted Dave.  “Waste time, get sick—–­all for nuthin’!”

“Shut up, you greasy Seminole!” muttered Vinton, and he turned away scornfully.  “All right, we will,” he called to the Petrel.  “What you goin’ to do?”

“First find out if that craft hid anything over there behind that key where she was lying, and then follow her.”

More confabbing of an unimportant and general nature followed between Vinton and Kelsey and the man in tweeds, who was evidently the special correspondent of some newspaper.  At the end of the conference, Kelsey called out: 

“Well, I guess we’ll mosey on, Lem.  Goodby and good luck to you.  If you meet any smugglers in the upper ’glades or along the coast, send word to Tampa; they’ll rush a cutter with some of the Gulf police to the spot.  Keep a sharp eye on strange-looking craft, will you?”

“Aye, aye!” responded the Arrow’s captain, little knowing into what adventures this pursuit of smugglers would lead him and his crew.

In a few minutes the Petrel had swung about and was heading in the direction from which the Esperanza had appeared.  The Arrow was left becalmed and drifting on the heavy swells of the Gulf; but her crew, excited by the prospect of encountering freebooters of the main, forgot to be seasick, even if they had been so inclined, and fell to preparing their noonday meal.

Vinton tilted his cap over his left eye and surveyed the trim Arrow with frank satisfaction, at the conclusion of their repast.

“All shipshape, boys?  Good!  Reckon I’ll let one of you steer awhile, and hit my bunk for an hour or two.  There’ll be wind out’n the sou’east, later on; and then I’ll take charge again.  All you’ve got to do now is to turn her around, with her nose pointin’ yonder,”—–­he waved a hand toward the distant Sanibel Islands that stretch along the coast south of Charlotte Harbor,—–­“and take ’vantage of every puff of wind that you can use for tackin’.  Understand?”

They signified their readiness to manage the sloop, once she had gone well beyond any reefs or bars, and they drew lots to see who should be first to take the captain’s place while he rested.  The draw, fell to Chester and he took charge of the helm.  Alec came next, then Billy took his turn, and finally Hugh.  While one steered, the others kept a look-out for the erratic Esperanza, thinking it might again appear from some unexpected quarter.  Mark and Roy Norton lounged in the bow and lazily swapped fishing stories, not at all averse to leaving the work to the rest.