s only in his understanding) and what else he
could not say. Here he found himself in strange waters, knowing no more
than that the chase seemed about to penetrate a tangled maze of islands
and distorted channels, in whose intricacies it should prove a matter of
facility to lose a pursuer already well distanced.

Abandoning the forward wheel in favour of that at the side, near the
engine pit, for a time he divided his attention between steering and
tinkering with the motor, with the result that the _Trouble_ began
presently to develop more speed. Slowly she crept up on the leader,
until, with Robins Island abeam (though he knew it not by name) the
distance between them had been abridged by half. But more than that she
seemed unable to accomplish. He surmised shrewdly that the others,
tardily observing his gain, had met it with an equalizing demand upon
their motor--that both boats were now running at the extreme of their
power. The _Trouble_, at least, could do no better. To this he must be
resigned.

Empty of all other craft, weird and desolate in moonlight, the Little
Peconic waters widened and then narrowed about the flying vessels. Shore
lights watched them, now dim and far, now bright and near at hand.
Shelter Island Sound received them, slapped their flanks encouragingly
with its racing waves, sped them with an ebbing tide that tore seawards
between constricted shores, carried them past high-wooded bluffs and low
wastes of sedge, past simple cottage and pretentious country home, past
bobbing buoys--nun and can and spar--and moored flotillas of small
pleasure craft, past Sag Harbor and past Cedar Island Light, delivering
them at length into the lonelier wastes of Gardiner's Bay. Their
relative positions were unchanged: still the _Trouble_ retained her
hard-won advantage.

But it was little comfort that Whitaker derived from contemplation of
this fact. He was beginning to be more definitely perplexed and
distressed. He had no watch with him, no means of ascertaining the time
even roughly; but unquestionably they had been upwards of two hours if
not more at full tilt, and now were braving wilder waters; and still he
saw no sign of anything resembling a termination of the adventure. In
fact, they were leaving behind them every likely landing place.

"Damn it!" he grumbled. "What are they aiming at--Boston?"

Near the forward wheel a miniature binnacle housing a compass with
phosphorescent card, advised him from t