the day after Dock obtained the money from Mr. Fairfield, he moved
his family on board of the Caribbee, which had already cleared at the
custom-house. Mr. Gayles was alarmed lest he should escape, and
hastened to Squire Cleaves for advice.

"We must not let him go," said the lawyer. "Where is that colored man,
Mr. Ebenier?"

"I saw him at Mr. Watson's house ten minutes ago."

"Bring him to me."

The steward was brought to him, and he was induced to make a charge
against Dock of assault and battery. A warrant was obtained, and Mr.
Gayles, with a sufficient posse, went to the Caribbee to arrest him.
His wife, and a man whose name was not known, but who was said to be a
passenger in the schooner, declared that he had gone to New York on
business, and the vessel would not sail till his return. Certainly Dock
was not on board, and it was ascertained at the depot that he had taken
the train for Boston.

CHAPTER XVIII.

MAT MOGMORE.

Mr. Gayles watched the Caribbee night and day; but he saw nothing of
Dock Vincent. Mr. Fairfield said his neighbor and friend had informed
him, several days before, of his intention to go to New York. The
constable was forced to believe that the people on board his vessel had
told the truth, and he could only wait for his return. Of course the
Caribbee would not sail on her long voyage without him, and there
seemed to be but little danger of losing his man.

The only strange circumstance was, that Dock had sent his family on
board of the vessel; but he had not much consideration for his wife and
children, and would not scruple to add a week of confinement to the
three or four months' duration of the proposed voyage. The man on
board, who was said to be a passenger, and was a stranger in Rockport,
appeared to take a lively interest in the affairs of the vessel and her
owner. It was surmised that, as Dock was not a skilful navigator, he
had been employed to furnish the science for the vessel. Neither he nor
any one on board professed to know when Dock would return, or when the
Caribbee would sail.

On Monday evening, when Dock had been gone three days, Levi had taken
tea at Mr. Watson's, and was reading the daily paper, which the
merchant had brought from Boston.

"That's too bad!" suddenly exclaimed the young skipper, dropping the
paper, and looking at Bessie.

"What's too bad, Levi?" she asked.

"There's to be a yacht race in Portland harbor to-morrow, at eleven
o'clock,