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Sometimes it pays, even in dollars and cents, to be honest." The next morning was hot and muggy. The sea about the island was clear of fog for one or two miles. Jim and Budge had started long before light to set the trawl, and Throppy wished to make some changes on his wireless; so Filippo was glad enough of the chance to go out with Percy to haul the lobster-traps.
Throppy, you stay here with Filippo and help guard these fellows." He glanced at the sullen three lying bound on the floor. "Don't look as if they could make much trouble. Still, it's better for somebody to keep an eye on 'em." Jim, Budge, and Percy stepped out and closed the door. The shouting from the Barracouta kept on with undiminished vigor.
All the boys were back at noon, when Thorpe, repairs made, waved farewell and sailed slowly out of the cove, dog and cats manning the side of the Helen, as if for a last salute. Throppy told of his morning's work. "Tried to pay me for what I did; but of course I wouldn't take anything. You might not think it, but, inside, that old boat is as neat as wax.
At last he gave up the search in disgust, and started back for camp by the shortest route. As he emerged into the cool breeze on the summit of the high southern shore he saw that the Calista still lay at anchor in the cove. Lane was alongside her in the pea-pod, while Jim and Throppy were rounding Brimstone Point in the Barracouta, with the dory in tow.
"I guess we'll get our set all right day after to-morrow." It was almost noon the next day before Jim and Percy rolled out of their bunks in Camp Spurling. One of Filippo's best dinners satisfied the last cravings of their appetites; but for a week they felt the strain of their forty-seven hours in the dory and on the buoy. "When did you reach the Pollux, Throppy?" asked Jim.
Small good it would do Jim and himself to-night. They could not reach the island with one oar, and it was now too dark for their friends on Tarpaulin to make out the drifting dory. Percy began sculling frantically. "Hi! Hi! Hulloo-oo!" he yelled. "Oh, Budge! Oh, Throppy! We're going to sea! Come out and get us!" It was like shouting against a solid wall. His cries were whirled away by the gale.
It was arranged that letters in the care of the Italian consul at Boston would always be forwarded to him. Jim and Throppy took the departing party over to Matinicus on the Barracouta, getting them there in ample time for the Rockland steamer. The sloop was back at Tarpaulin by four o'clock. Meanwhile John P. Whittington had started on his vacation.
Throppy and Filippo were landed, with instructions to haul the lobster-traps the next morning if the fog would allow them to do it safely. Without waiting for dinner, Jim, Budge, and Percy started in the sloop for Rockland to dispose of their catch. They had no ice, so it was necessary to get the two swordfish to market as soon as possible.
Jim decided that they should never make use of the Barracouta. The spokesman dropped his conciliatory mask and turned away defiantly. "All right, young fellow! You've had your say; now we'll have ours." "Throppy," said Jim in a low tone to Stevens, who was standing with Lane beside him, "these men are smugglers. Call the cutter!" He had time for nothing more.
Then bang! "He's done it!" exclaimed Throppy. The boys felt unhappy. In a few minutes Lane came crunching down the gravel slope. His face was sober. "Where's the lamb?" asked Jim. "Up there! I didn't agree to bring it down." "Come on, boys!" Jim, Percy, and Stevens went up to the pasture; Lane remained in the cabin. A careful search failed to reveal the victim. Jim walked to the edge of the bank.
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