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Updated: June 27, 2025
It may help stave off trouble." "Aren't you going to take the gun?" Percy inquired. "Gun? No! What'd we want of that? We don't intend to shoot anybody." Twenty minutes after the Barracouta left Sprowl's Cove she was thudding into the Sly Hole. The sloop still lay at anchor in its center, but the dory was grounded on the beach. From the woods above, ax-strokes echoed faintly.
It seemed improbable that he would ever see Jabe again, but he determined that some time, somewhere, and somehow the freckled lad should pay dearly for the slight he had put upon the house of Whittington. It was a few minutes past eleven when the sloop's engine stopped and she glided up to her mooring in Sprowl's Cove. Five sleepy boys tumbled into the dory and paddled ashore.
They were back in Sprowl's Cove at half past ten, and put their lobsters into the car with the others. Hardly had they finished when a motor-sloop came round the eastern point. "Here's a smack!" exclaimed Jim. "On time to the minute! Shouldn't wonder if it was Captain Higgins in the Calista!" The boat swept into the cove in a broad circle, and ranged alongside the car.
"Wait till we hear what Jim says," was Lane's reply. The remaining traps were hauled in double-quick time and they made a bee-line for Sprowl's Cove. Spurling and Throppy came in at noon on the Barracouta. Jim's brows knitted when he heard of their new neighbors. "What should you say they were?" he inquired. "Don't know," answered Lane. "Only I'm sure they're not Yankees."
Practically submerged, and offering the gale no surface to get hold of, it moved much more slowly than the high-sided boat, and so retarded its course. Jim came crawling aft again. "Guess that'll hold her!" he exclaimed. "I've strengthened the lanyard with some ground-line, and it ought to last us through the night. We'll be as snug as if we were in Sprowl's Cove, hey, Perce?"
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