  After Jim had dropped over the stern of the sloop Terry strained his eyes to follow his progress toward the shore. For a brief distance he was able to see the boy, but very soon the dense blackness swallowed Jim up. He listened intently, following his progress through the water, and at last was pretty sure that Jim had landed safely on the shore. Then, realizing that he was left alone on the sloop for an indefinite period of time, Terry settled down to wait. In any other circumstances he would have felt the thrill of being alone and being heir to such an important trust, but just now he felt very lonely. There was such uncertainty regarding the whereabouts of Don, and all their plans hinged on issues that might easily work out to their disadvantage. If Don escaped from wherever he was and went down to the cove he would be puzzled to find that the sloop was gone, and he would be at a loss, though Terry was inclined to think that he would get in the dinghy and row all around the island looking for them. With that thought in mind the boy decided to keep a careful lookout for a boat. Waiting under such circumstances was not easy, and Terry found the time hanging heavily on his hands. He sat in the cockpit and on the top of the cabin, and walked around the deck several times, keeping a sharp glance directed toward the shore. He wished that he was with Jim, to share with him whatever danger or problem he might encounter, but he by no means underrated the importance of his own position. He knew that he must at all costs guard the sloop well, and that all would be lost if the boat fell into other hands. With this thought in mind he made a thorough inspection of the sloop, examining it in every respect. Down below he found a long boathook, which he brought up on deck, determined to use it as a weapon if necessary. The electric light was burning steadily in the cabin and he wondered if he should extinguish it, but on second thought he decided not to. If Don or Jim returned they would miss the Lassie in the darkness, and he knew that would never do. The light must be kept going at all costs, and if it went out there was an oil lamp and plenty of fuel aboard. Jim had taught him how to run the sloop and he wondered if he remembered how to do it. He went through the motions, without turning the flywheel however, for it would never do to have the sound of the motor explosions heard on the shore. He found that he remembered perfectly, and was confident that he could put on power and run away if necessary. He hoped that he would not be compelled to. In this way an hour passed, a long dragging hour and to Terry it seemed like an eternity. Time and again he strained his eyes in the direction of the island, but no sign of a light did he see. Realizing that he was visible in the light that shone from the companionway he closed the slide until only a crack of light streamed up against the black sky, enough of a guide to Jim or Don if they needed it. Suddenly he sat up straight, listening. There had been a sound, and he was not sure if it had been the lapping of waves against the beach or some other sound. After a time it came again, and there was no mistaking it this time, it was the squeaking of oarlocks. It was off toward the shore, and drawing closer. For a moment he hesitated, uncertain. If it was Don he must hail, but if it was some unfriendly person he would risk everything by calling out. It was a hazard either way, but he saw that he must take it. Grasping the boathook in one hand he called out over the water: “Ahoy, there! That you, Don?” His voice sounded alarmingly loud, and the noise of the oars stopped abruptly. Thinking that the other had not fully heard him, Terry repeated his call. There was no answer, and he knew that it was not Don or Jim. But there was certainly someone out there in a boat, and Terry felt his skin prickle as he knew that he was being watched by eyes that he could not see. His thoughts raced. Was somebody softly stealing up to him in the darkness, prepared to rush aboard the sloop? The hand which held the boathook tightened and his eyes narrowed. If they were, they could count on a good stiff fight. If there were not too many of them he felt that he could hold his own against them, as the boathook was long, and he could use it vigorously. But as time went on and there was no movement, he began to be reassured. Perhaps his fears were groundless, perhaps he had only thought he heard someone out there. A moment later and he knew that that was not so. The squeaking began again, but this time it was going away from him. Whoever had been in the boat had either been there with the avowed purpose of spying on him or had been somehow scared off by his call. The sound rapidly drew away until it was lost in the distance. “Now, I wonder what the dickens that man wanted?” the boy muttered, uneasily. He looked out toward the sea, to be sure that it was not a trap. In his present state of mind he was not sure that someone would not appear suddenly out of the darkness on the starboard side and spring over the rail. He continued his watch. He wished he knew just when the boys were coming back, in which case he could have made coffee for them. It was then that he realized that he was hungry, for they had only made a pretense at eating. Knowing that there was some cold meat in the refrigerator he went below and got it, together with some bread, and fixed himself a sandwich. While doing this he paused frequently to thrust his head out of the companionway opening and look around and listen. But the only thing that he heard was the lapping of the water on the shore. He sat on the deck and ate his sandwich, enjoying it more than he had thought possible under the circumstances. After that time dragged, and he found himself getting sleepy. The salt air had been having that effect on the country boy since he had been with the boys, and he found in spite of his excitement that he was nodding. Realizing sharply that the last thing he must do was to go to sleep he stirred restlessly and wondered what he should do to keep himself awake. Surely there was something he could do to make the time pass. But when he came to look around he found that there was not. One of the first things Mr. Mercer had taught his boys when he had bought the sloop for them was that it must always be kept in the best order, and immediately after meals the boys cleared up all rubbish and aired out blankets, setting the sloop in shipshape order before undertaking any of the pleasures of the day. And Jim had left the ship in the best of order before he had gone. Every blanket was folded and in place, and Terry could not find a thing to do. A tiny splash near the sloop caused him to come to attention like a flash. It was a bit unusual, and he knew that it was not like anything else that he heard before. It sounded as though someone had dropped an oar in the water with a little more force than was intended, and he was instantly on the alert. No sound followed it, but Terry bounded up on deck. His fears were realized. About ten feet from the sloop was a rowboat, with two men in it. They were rowing toward the sloop rapidly, and the oars had been muffled in burlap. When they saw Terry they bent to the oars with increased vigor. “Who are you?” Terry called, but he received no answer. He stooped over, picked up the boathook and raised it aloft. “Keep off this boat,” he called, but one of the men, whom he now recognized as the short man, Frank, dropped his oars and made a clutch at the rail of the sloop. Terry struck downward with all his strength. |
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