owed us, and as the moon now shone brightly, we
easily made out the oyster pirates on their lonely shoal. As we drew
closer, they fired a rattling volley from their revolvers, and we
promptly retreated beyond range.

"Lot of time," Charley said. "The flood is setting in fast, and by the
time it's up to their necks there won't be any fight left in them."

So we lay on our oars and waited for the tide to do its work. This was
the predicament of the pirates: because of the big run-out, the tide
was now rushing back like a mill-race, and it was impossible for the
strongest swimmer in the world to make against it the three miles to
the sloops. Between the pirates and the shore were we, precluding
escape in that direction. On the other hand, the water was rising
rapidly over the shoals, and it was only a question of a few hours
when it would be over their heads.

It was beautifully calm, and in the brilliant white moonlight we
watched them through our night glasses and told Charley of the voyage
of the _Coal Tar Maggie_. One o'clock came, and two o'clock, and the
pirates were clustering on the highest shoal, waist-deep in water.

"Now this illustrates the value of imagination," Charley was saying.
"Taft has been trying for years to get them, but he went at it with
bull strength and failed. Now we used our heads...."

Just then I heard a scarcely audible gurgle of water, and holding up
my hand for silence, I turned and pointed to a ripple slowly widening
out in a growing circle. It was not more than fifty feet from us. We
kept perfectly quiet and waited. After a minute the water broke six
feet away, and a black head and white shoulder showed in the
moonlight. With a snort of surprise and of suddenly expelled breath,
the head and shoulder went down.

We pulled ahead several strokes and drifted with the current. Four
pairs of eyes searched the surface of the water, but never another
ripple showed, and never another glimpse did we catch of the black
head and white shoulder.

"It's the Porpoise," Nicholas said. "It would take broad daylight for
us to catch him."

At a quarter to three the pirates gave their first sign of weakening.
We heard cries for help, in the unmistakable voice of the Centipede,
and this time, on rowing closer, we were not fired upon. The Centipede
was in a truly perilous plight. Only the heads and shoulders of his
fellow-marauders showed above the water as they braced themselves
against the current,