The point of which Frank had spoken was a long, low neck of land, covered with trees, which completely concealed the mouth of Glen's Creek. In a few moments they reached this point, and the Speedwell's bow ran high upon the sand, and the boys sprang out, and hurried over to the other side of the point, to watch the proceedings on the river, while Brave, at his master's command, remained in the boat. Concealing themselves behind a large log, they waited impatiently for the appearance of the Champion.

The vessels of the squadron, with the exception of the division stationed at the foot of Reynard's Island, were anch.o.r.ed in a semicircle directly before the mouth of Glen's Creek, from which it was expected that the Alert would start. Each sloop was manned by two boys, and the schooners had a crew of four. Every one stood at his post, and was ready to move at the word.

"They meant to be ready for us, didn't they?" asked Frank. "I wonder if they thought we would be foolish enough to send the Alert out of this creek, in the face of all those boats?"

"I don't know," answered Ben. "I suppose they thought--See there!

there goes the Champion."

Frank looked down the river, and saw that the stanch little sloop had already run the blockade, and was standing boldly toward the island.

Her appearance was sudden and wholly unexpected and several of the coast-guards sprang to their feet, and a dozen sails were half-way up the mast in a twinkling; but, as soon as they discovered that it was not the Alert, they quickly returned to their posts, and, in a moment, all the bustle and confusion was over.

The eye of every boy in the squadron was now directed toward Glen's Creek, expecting, every moment, to see the schooner round the point.

The Champion had accomplished, perhaps, half the distance across the river, when the Alert suddenly shot from Ducks' Creek, and, hauling around before the wind, ran in between two of the blockading fleet, so close as to almost graze them, and stood toward the foot of the island.

As soon as the coast-guards could recover from their surprise, Charles shouted,

"Up anchor--quick!"

The next moment he called out,

"Jim, take your division, and creep down the sh.o.r.e of the island, and be ready to catch her there, if she gets away from us."

For a few moments there was a "great hurrying" among the coast-guards.

The anchors were drawn up with a jerk, the sails flew up the masts, and the little fleet bore rapidly down upon the smuggler.

As soon as Frank saw that the race had fairly begun, he exclaimed,

"Now's our time, Ben!"

They ran back to their boat, and hastily shoved from the sh.o.r.e, and the Speedwell, making good her name, was soon plowing the river, in the direction of the island.

So intent were the coast-guards upon catching the Alert, that they thought of nothing else; and Frank rounded the head of the island, and landed, without being discovered.

Meanwhile, George and Harry were leading their pursuers a long chase.

Under their skillful management--standing first on one tack and then on the other--they had succeeded in outmaneuvering several of the swiftest-sailing vessels in the squadron.

Two or three small sloops had succeeded in getting between the Alert and the island; but Harry, who was at the helm, did not deem them worthy a moment's notice. He was confident that his schooner, by her superior sailing qualities, would soon leave these behind also.

The smugglers began to grow jubilant over their success, and George called out,

"Where are your men-o'-war now? Throw us a line, and we'll tow you."

"Come on, you coast-guards," chimed in Harry. "You will never catch us, at this rate."

If the smugglers _had_ succeeded in eluding their pursuers, it would, indeed, have been an achievement worth boasting of; but they had to deal with those who were as cunning and skillful as themselves.

Charles was not to be beaten so easily; and, although he said nothing, the smugglers saw him smile and shake his head, as if he were certain that he could yet win the day.

"Can you discover any fast boats ahead of us, George?" inquired Harry.

George rose to his feet to take a survey of the squadron, and answered,

"No, there are only two or three little things standing across our bows, but we'll soon--We're caught, sure as shooting!" he suddenly exclaimed, changing his tone. "Bring her around before the wind--quick! There's the North Star, Sunshine, and Sampson. We might as well haul down the sails."

James Porter's division, which had been "laying to" at the foot of Glen's Island, now bore down upon the Alert, and George had just discovered them; and they were coming on in such a manner that escape was impossible.

"Yes," answered Harry, as soon as he had noted the positions of the approaching vessels, "we are caught. We began to brag too soon."

"Well, we don't lose any thing," said George. "Frank has landed the provisions long before this."

"I know it; but still I wish we could have beaten them."

"What do you think now, Harry?" asked Charles, whose boat was following close in the wake of the Alert.

"I think we are done for."

And, as Harry "luffed in the wind," George drew down the sails, and gave up the struggle.

In a moment the little fleet closed about the smuggler, and, to prevent accident, the sails were all hauled down, and the boats lay motionless on the water.

"I tell you," said Charles, "you fellows worked it pretty well."

"Yes," answered George, as if a little crest-fallen at their defeat.

"We did the best we could."

"I thought we had more provisions than this," said one of the captains of the squadron, pulling his boat alongside of the Alert. "I didn't think you could get them all in here."

And he pulled up the covering, and looked under it.

"They are packed in tight, you see," said Harry, who wished to keep up the "sell," as he called it, as long as possible.

"What are in these bags?" inquired one.

"Shavings," answered George. "We thought we might want to kindle a fire for something."

"I say, George," said James Porter, standing up in his boat to get a good view of the things in the Alert. "I wish you would feel in my basket, and get a cup that is in there, and pa.s.s it over this way. I'm thirsty. I was so excited," he continued, taking off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "that I sweat as if I had been dumped in the river. There isn't a dry rag on me."

"Which is your basket?" inquired Harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh.

"It's a brown basket, with a white cover," answered James.

George and Harry were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak; but Charles exclaimed, as he drew aside the covering,

"There's no brown basket here."

"There ought to be," said one of the coast-guards; "I brought my things in a brown basket."

"So did I," exclaimed another.