“All right.  You fellows will have to clear out of here, though, while I get this hatch up.  Some of you might go forward and keep your eyes peeled.  I don’t suppose, however,” he added as he pulled the engine hatch up, “that they’ll show any lights on her.”

“Not likely to,” agreed Harry Corwin.  “They’ll run dark, probably, until they get near a harbour.  Look for anything like a boat, fellows.  It’s a mighty good thing we’ve got this moonlight.”

“Yes, and we’ll have to make hay while the moon shines,” added Wink Wheeler as he climbed out of Joe’s way, “for it won’t last much longer.  It’ll be as dark as pitch by one or two o’clock, I guess.”

“Well, we’ve got a searchlight,” said Perry.

“There’s no need for more than three of us to stay up,” said Steve.  “I’ll keep the wheel and Joe will stay here with me.  Phil, you take the watch for a couple of hours and then wake someone else.”

“Huh!” said Perry.  “I’m not going to bed!  Who wants to sleep, anyway?”

Apparently no one did, for although presently the dozen fellows were distributed over the boat, not one went below.  Phil and Han stretched themselves out at the bow, Steve, Joe, Harry and Tom Corwin and Cas Temple remained on the bridge deck and the rest of the company retired to the cockpit, from where, by looking along the after cabin roof, they had a satisfactory view of the course.  Perhaps one or two of the boys did nod a little during the next two hours, but real slumber was far from the minds of any of them.  The Adventurer was doing a good twenty miles an hour, the propeller lashing the water into a long foaming path that melted astern in the moonlight.  Ossie busied himself in the galley about midnight and served hot coffee and bread-and-butter sandwiches.  Only once was the Adventurer changed from her course, which Steve had laid for Gloucester, and then the light which had aroused their suspicions was soon seen to belong to a coasting schooner beating her way toward Boston.  Of small boats there were none until, at about one o’clock, when the two white lights of Baker’s Island lay west by north and the red flash on Eastern Point showed almost dead ahead, Phil called from the bow.

“Steve, there’s something ahead that looks like a boat or a rock.  Can you see it?”

“Which side?”

“A little to the left.  Port, isn’t it?  Han doesn’t see it, but—­”

“I’ve got it,” answered Steve.  After a moment he added with conviction:  “It’s a boat.  Has she changed her position, Phil?”

“Not while I’ve been watching.  Looks as if she was going about the same way we are.”  The others came clustering forward from the stern to stare across the water at the dark spot ahead which, in the uncertain light of the setting moon, might be almost anything.  If it was a boat, it showed no light.  Anxiously the boys watched, and after a few minutes Steve announced with quiet triumph: