Guilt of the Brass Thieves — Reading Companion

Jack was nearly seventeen, with light hair and steel blue eyes. His white trousers were none too well pressed and the sleeves of an old sweater bore smears of grease. Steering the boat with finger-tip control, he deliberately cut through the highest of the waves, treating his passengers to a series of jolts.

Some distance away, a ferryboat, the _River Queen_, glided smoothly along, its railings thronged with people. In the pilot house, a girl who might have been sixteen, stood at the wheel.

"Look, Dad!" Penny exclaimed. "A girl is handling that big boat!"

"Sally Barker," Jack informed disparagingly. "She's the daughter of Captain Barker who owns the _River Queen_. A brat if ever there was one!"

"She certainly has that ferryboat eating out of her hand," Mr. Parker commented admiringly.

"Oh, she handles a boat well enough. Why shouldn't she? The captain started teaching her about the river when she was only three years old. He taught her all she knows about sailboat racing, too."

Jack's tone of voice left no doubt that he considered Sally Barker completely beneath his notice. As the two boats drew fairly close together, the girl in the pilot house waved, but he pretended not to see.

"You said something about a sailboat race when we were at the dock," Penny reminded him eagerly. "Is it an annual affair?"

Jack nodded, swerving to avoid a floating log. "Sally won the trophy last year. Before that I held it. This year I am planning on winning it back."

"Oh, I see," Penny commented dryly.

"That's not why I dislike Sally," Jack said to correct any misapprehension she might have gained. "It's just--well, she's so sure of herself--so blamed stubborn. And it's an insult to Tate's Beach the way she flaunts the trophy aboard that cheap old ferryboat!"

"How do you mean?" Mr. Parker inquired, his curiosity aroused.

Jack did not reply, for just then the engine coughed. The boat plowed on a few feet, and the motor cut off again.

"Now what?" Jack exclaimed, alarmed.

Even as he spoke, the engine died completely.

"Sounds to me as if we're out of gas," observed Mr. Parker. "How is your supply?"

A stricken look came upon Jack's wind-tanned face. "I forgot to fill the tank before I left the island," he confessed ruefully. "My father told me to be sure to do it, but I started off in such a hurry."

"Haven't you an extra can of fuel aboard?" Mr. Parker asked, trying to hide his annoyance.

Jack shook his head, gazing gloomily toward the distant island. The current had caught the boat and was carrying it downstream, away from the Gandiss estate.

"Nothing to do then, but get out the oars. And it will be a long, hard row."

"Oars?" Jack echoed weakly. "We haven't any aboard and no anchor either."

Mr. Parker was too disgusted to speak. A man who demanded efficiency and responsibility in his own newspaper plant, he had no patience with those negligent of their duties. Because he and Penny were to be guests of the Gandiss family, he made an effort not to blame Jack for the mishap.

"I--I'm terribly sorry," the boy stammered. "But we shouldn't be stranded here long. We'll soon be picked up."

Hopefully, Jack gazed toward the nearest shore. No small boats were visible. The ferry, plying her regular passenger route, now was far upstream.

Although the sun still shone brightly, clouds frequently blocked it from view. Waves slapped higher against the drifting boat and the river took on a dark cast.

Neither Penny nor her father spoke of the increasing certainty of rain. However, they watched the shifting clouds uneasily. Soon there was no more sun, and the river waters became inky black.

Presently the wind died completely and a dead calm held the boat. But not for many minutes. Soon a ripple of breeze ruffled the water, and far upstream a haze of rain blotted out the shoreline.

"Here it comes!" Mr. Parker said tersely, buttoning up his coat.

The next instant, wind and rain struck the little boat in full force. Penny's hat was swept from her head and went sailing gaily down river. Waves which broke higher and higher, spanked the boat, threatening to overturn it when they struck broadside.

"If we just had an anchor--" Jack murmured but did not finish.

Above the fury of the storm could be heard the faint clatter of a motorboat engine. Straining their eyes, they pierced the wall of rain to see a small speedboat fighting its way upstream.

"A boat!" Penny cried. "Now we'll be picked up!"

Jack sprang to his feet, waving and shouting. Closer and closer approached the boat, but there was no answering shout from those aboard.