g aboard, filled with curiosity.

"What happens to be wrong on board?" demanded one bronzed fisherman.

"We've a cabin full of pirates, or rascals about as bad," returned Mr.
Seaton, grimly.

"Men of this coast?" asked another speaker.

"Yes, evidently," nodded Mr. Seaton, whom the new-comers had
recognized as the owner of Lonely Island.

"Then they must be the crew of the 'Black Betty,'" commented the first
speaker.

"Is that a black, fifty-foot schooner, low in the water, narrow and
carrying tall masts with a heavy spread of canvas?" interposed Tom
Halstead.

"Yes," nodded the fisherman. "That's the 'Black Betty.' She claims to
be a fishing boat, but we're ready to bet she's a smuggler. She
carries nine men, including Captain Dave Lemly."

"I reckon we've got most of the 'Black Betty' outfit below, then,"
declared Captain Halstead. "Or else--gracious!"

For, at that moment, the cracked hatch gave in with a smash. Powell
Seaton had neglected to remain on guard closely. There was a surge of
the prisoners below.

"Halstead, you'll hear from me again--and so will your crew!" shouted
Anson Dalton out of the press of struggling men that formed on the
after deck. "I won't let you forget me, Halstead!"

There was a splash past the rail. Dalton had gone overboard, followed
by two of his companions.

CHAPTER VII

POWELL SEATON'S BAD CASE OF "FORGET"

"Don't let any more get away!" called Powell Seaton, excitedly.

Tom Halstead promptly leaped at one of the rough fugitives just as the
latter was trying to reach the wharf. Another one Joe Dawson grabbed.
Several of the fishermen sprang to help. For a minute or two there was
a good deal of confusion. When matters quieted down, it was found that
Halstead and Dawson, with the fishermen helping, had secured five of
the rough lot.

Powell Seaton, by threatening with his shot-gun, had induced a sixth
to swim ashore. But Anson Dalton and another man, believed to be
Captain Dave Lemly of the "Black Betty," had escaped, swimming under
water in the darkness. They must have come to the surface at some
point not far away, yet, in the black darkness of the night, they
managed to escape safely for the time being, at any rate.

The six men thus arrested were forced inside a ring of the fishermen,
whose numbers had been greatly increased by new arrivals. Powell
Seaton, his shot-gun on his shoulder, now patrolled close to the human
ring. Three or four men hurried wi