Water Chase (4 page)

“Probably the other boat they had was stolen too and the police were already on the lookout for it. No doubt they figured that even if your Dad and his crew survived it would be some time before they would be able to turn in the warning.”

Donald nodded. “Maybe they were going to try to get to the States,” he said. “You see, the ship’s papers and everything were right there in Dad’s cabin and they might figure out a way to use them.”

“Maybe that was their idea,” Peter agreed.

“I wonder how they knew about the payroll!”

Mr. Baird slid behind the wheel. “Well boys, we’re off. I think we’ll take a run over to Campbell River and call in at the R.C.M.P. offices. Could be they may have some leads or some suggestions as to how we can work with them. It won’t take us more than an hour or so.”

The “Ambassador” cut cleanly across the harbor, then through the narrow channel and out into the rough pass. Instead of looking out for signs of the “Chinook,” this time Peter and Donald were poring over the map, pointing out inlets and islands they would pass and where there were possible hiding places.

“It would take some pretty tricky navigation for somebody who wasn’t used to these waters,” Donald
said, “there are so many narrow passages and rocks.”

“You’d think they would go south; it’s clear that way,” Peter said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Maybe they did, but there are open waters that way and they’d run into danger of getting caught.”

They were still talking when the “Ambassador” pulled in beside the float, but a minute later they had joined Mr. Baird and were hurrying along the wooden planking of the wharf, leaving John Duncanson in care of the boat.

They only found one constable at the offices of the R.C.M.P.

“The launch is out looking for the ‘Chinook,’” he told them. “We had a report that a ship answering her description was seen around Kelsey Bay.”

“Then they did go north!” Donald said.

The constable looked doubtful. “We’re not sure,” he said. “By the way, have you seen today’s newspaper? There’s some speculation that the two men who escaped from Oakalla prison last week may have come this way. They haven’t been picked up at the U. S. border and may have come north.”

Peter and Donald just looked at each other.

The constable went on. “One of the men — Dooley — used to be a fisherman around these parts so he knows the waters pretty well.”

“Boy, now it begins to make sense!” Donald said. “I bet he was the one who took the ‘Chinook.’ He’s hiding out and waiting for a chance to make a getaway.”

“Maybe he doesn’t even know about the payroll,” Peter said.

The constable frowned. “There was a radio on board?”

Donald nodded.

“Well, if he didn’t know about the payroll before — though I’m sure he did — he’ll know about it after hearing the news reports.”

“We’re heading north for Sointula,” Mr. Baird told him. “These boys know the ‘Chinook’ well, so we’ll keep a sharp lookout for her. I expect the planes will spot her quickly.”

“I doubt it. If Dooley is on board that boat, he knows plenty of places for hiding out. He might even head for Prince Rupert or Alaska, but my guess is he’ll try to make a run south sooner or later. Then maybe the two of them will go ashore some place and let the boat drift off.”

“What about the launch they had. Did they steal that too?” Peter asked.

“We’ve been checking on that. We went over to Savary Island this morning and picked it up.” The constable looked at Donald. “It was still where your father left it. Yes, the launch had been taken from Nanaimo harbor, but we don’t know just when. The owner had been away for a few days and found on his return that his boat had disappeared.”

“Boy, I sure hope we get them!” Donald said earnestly.

Peter made a wry face. “I hope the planes find them!” he said. “It might be better if we didn’t get mixed up with fellows like that.”

“Maybe you’re right; but just the same we want to get the ‘Chinook’ back and the payroll too!” Donald said.

T
HE TRIP NORTH was uneventful. Mr. Baird took the “Ambassador” in to Kelsey Bay, but there were no new reports. Peter and Donald kept their eyes open, watching, watching for the clean long lines of the white “Chinook,” but they were disappointed. They saw plenty of fishing boats and the yachts and launches of American vacationers. They talked to the people on board but nobody had seen the missing ship.

As soon as Mr. Baird had completed his business in Sointula and they were ready to make the return trip, he took the charts out of the drawer again. He studied them for a long time, frowning.

“If we just had some idea where they went!” he muttered, more to himself than to the boys, who were on deck just outside.

Peter heard him and came into the wheelhouse. “Are we going straight back to camp?”

“I thought we might take a run up one or two of the inlets and go around the islands. I’ve just been listening to radio reports and there’s no word of the ‘Chinook’ yet.”

By this time Donald had come in. “Which inlet would be best to hide in?” he asked.

“That’s hard to say. I think they’d go where there wasn’t much life or maybe to an Indian village.
But what are they staying there for? This is the fourth day.”

“Maybe we’ll be the ones to find the ship after all!” Peter said. “You know, we could ask the Lord to guide us to the right place.”

Mr. Baird nodded. “You’re right, Peter. We’ve been praying daily that the ‘Chinook’ might be found but we should pray about our course too. Let’s ask the Lord for His special guidance right now.”

Grouped around the map, they bowed their heads and asked, not only for guidance but also for wisdom if they should meet up with the desperate characters.

“Look at that!” Mr. Baird said, half laughing. “The point of my pencil is right toward Loughborough Inlet. I thought we might take a run up Knight but I don’t know—Loughborough—I went up there a time or two and there are Indian villages, plenty of bays and not much else?”

“Let’s go there then!” Donald said.

“And skip Knight Inlet?” He looked at the map. “Yes, maybe we should. There would be plenty of fishing boats up Knight right now, but the Indians in Loughborough wouldn’t take much notice of a boat coming in there nor even report it.”

While they didn’t go into the waters of Knight Inlet, they did make a tour of the islands at its mouth. But there was no sign of the “Chinook” and nobody had seen her. By late afternoon they reached Loughborough and Mr. Baird took out the chart again.

“Good little cove at Beaver,” he said, pointing
to a bay on the shore line of the Inlet. “We’ll go all the way up and maybe come back and anchor there for the night.”

Mr. Baird kept his boat well on the south side of the Inlet until they were opposite Beaver Creek. It was dusk and hard to see if any boats were anchored around the headland or not, but suddenly Peter gave an exclamation.

“There’s a boat in there! Look! There’s a light!”

“I can just see something dark. It can’t be the ‘Chinook’; she’s white. Even in this light she wouldn’t look that dark.”

Mr. Baird joined them on deck and they stared into the gathering darkness. Once again a light glowed for a moment and then disappeared.

“A fishboat, I expect,” Mr. Baird said.

“I’m sure it’s too big for that.” Peter said.

“A big seiner, maybe. But we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, Peter.”

He went back to the wheelhouse and slowly swung the “Ambassador” back the way they had come. He killed the engine and went to let out the anchor.

“What did you do that for?”

“It’s not worthwhile showing them we’re here,” Mr. Baird said. “Now we can light up.”

Peter couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t know the “Chinook” as Donald did, but somehow or other he had a feeling that she was lying there in hiding just the other side of the headland. But how could they find out without rousing suspicion? At last he fell asleep, but not for long. He was awake with the first light of dawn. He looked over
at Donald’s bunk; Donald, too, seemed restless. He went over and shook him.

“Hey, Don, I have an idea. Let’s row over and walk around the shore!”

Donald was only half asleep and quickly fell in with Peter’s suggestion. They slipped into their clothes and crept quietly out on deck. Doing their best not to make a noise, they lowered the dinghy over the side of the “Ambassador,” stepped into it and pulled away. The morning was still and beautiful, not a breath of wind rippling the clear inlet waters. Their oars made little sound. There was only an occasional call from the gulls wheeling overhead.

“We can land on the beach and walk around the point,” Peter said. “See, the tide is going down; it will be easy enough. I’m sure I saw something there last night.”

“It couldn’t have been the ‘Chinook’!” Donald said, but he rowed eagerly enough. In a few minutes they could see stones through the clear water.

“We can beach it here,” Donald said. “The tide won’t be coming in for a long time.”

The rocks were covered with seaweed and the rubber soles of their shoes slipped on them. The woods looked too thick to push through, but they climbed up the beach until they were well above high water mark and the stones were dry. Then they worked their way around the point.

“We don’t want to be seen,” Peter said.

“They won’t expect people to be walking on the shore at this hour of the morning and in this lonely place,” Donald said, smiling. “But just the
same, it’s a good thing we have on khaki shorts and these old T shirts. They won’t show up.”

They rounded the headland and then, keeping well behind bushes, walked a little way along the shore of the small bay.

“I don’t see anything. …” Donald began. He stopped and pointed. His eyes narrowed.

Peter followed his gaze. “I guess you were right after all,” he said disappointedly. “That’s not the ‘Chinook.’ It’s brown and green.”

But Donald’s hand had gripped his arm. He was still staring at the boat. Silently he pointed to where ropes and a cross board hung down the side. Peter looked at him and frowned. What did Donald mean? Why was he looking like that?

“Let’s go a bit closer,” Donald said. “They’re not even stirring yet but just the same, we don’t want to be seen.”

Peter followed Donald until they were fairly close to the ship. Donald stopped, nodding slowly.

“Now look at it!” he said to Peter.

Peter looked. It certainly did resemble the “Chinook”—same size, same lines, but— Suddenly his mouth dropped open.

“They’re painting it!” he said.

Donald nodded. “Yep. That’s the ‘Chinook’ all right. They’ve taken away some of the things on deck, too, so she’s not easily recognizable from the air.”

“Come on, let’s get back to the ‘Ambassador’ and tell Mr. Baird.”

They turned and hurried back the way they had
come. For an instant, before they rounded the point, Peter stopped and looked back.

They could see a man on the foredeck and he seemed to be looking in their direction.

“Do you think he’s seen us?” Donald whispered, although they were too far away for their voices to carry.

“I don’t know. Maybe he just saw some movement and wondered what it was.”

They saw the man turn and go inside. Quickly they rounded the point, making sure they could not be seen from the ship. Then they made a dash for the waiting dinghy and rowed back to the “Ambassador.”

W
HAT HAVE YOU TWO been up to?” Mr. Baird asked Peter and Donald as soon as they had brought the rowboat alongside and clambered up on the deck of the “Ambassador.” He was smiling but he looked puzzled. “I thought you were asleep in your bunks and got quite a shock when I went in to call you for breakfast.”

The boys looked at each other then grinned.

“You tell!” Peter said.

“Tell what? Did you catch a fish?”

“A big fish, I’d say!” Donald said, his eyes sparkling. “It’s there, Mr. Baird! We saw the ‘Chinook’! It’s just around that point!”

“But last night you thought it was a dark boat. …”

“That’s just it. The boat in there is dark, but she was white before. They’re painting her, and they’ve changed the look of her but just the same, I’m sure she’s the ‘Chinook’!”

Mr. Baird looked thoughtful. “We don’t want to make any mistake. Do you think we should go in there and have a look?”

Donald frowned. “I’m sure about that being our ship, but I don’t know about going in there. Would they recognize the ‘Ambassador’?”

“They might, at that,” Mr. Baird said. “It’s possible
they saw her anchored in Gowlland Harbor. We’d better not do anything to make the men think we’re looking for them.”

“What
are
we going to do?” Peter asked.

“I think we’ll just go quietly out of the Inlet until we find some way to send a message. Too bad we haven’t a ship’s telephone on board. If possible, we should get help without arousing suspicion. Did it look as if the paint job were almost done?”

“Yes, it looked that way,” Donald said. “We didn’t hang around long. Somebody came out on deck and we were afraid he would see us.”

Before starting breakfast they turned the “Ambassador” about and started off down the Inlet. The morning was perfectly calm and clear.

“As soon as we get past Hardwicke Island and into the Straits we might be able to contact a fishing boat. I don’t want to cross over to Kelsey Bay; that might give them time to slip away without us seeing them,” Mr. Baird said. John Duncanson was now at the wheel while the rest of them were hurriedly having breakfast.

Suddenly Peter stopped chewing. “S-s-s-sh! I hear something!”

“What is it?” Donald asked.

“I thought I heard a plane.” Peter swallowed a last mouthful of bread and ran up the steps to the aft deck.

“See anything?” Donald called.

Peter stuck his head in again. “Yes, a little seaplane like the one your father was in the other day, but I don’t suppose it can be the same one.”

In a moment Mr. Baird and Donald had joined
him on the deck, and although the plane was some distance away they started waving frantically.