ithin a short distance of the mouth of Ducks' Creek; and
Frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat's head toward the shore,
and, as soon as her keel touched the bottom, he and Ben sprang out,
leaving Harry to watch the prisoner.

They had landed upon Reynard's Island, and immediately started for the
opposite side, to learn, if possible, what was going on upon the
river. Every thing was as silent as midnight; and the smugglers were
obliged to move very carefully, for the slightest sound--the snapping
of a twig or the rustling of a leaf--could be heard at a long
distance. After proceeding a quarter of a mile in this cautious
manner, they reached the opposite side of the island.

"Well," said Ben, after trying in vain to peer through the darkness,
"how do matters stand? I wonder if we could not have slipped by their
police, and reached the island, before they knew it?"

"No, sir," said Frank, "not by a good deal. We should certainly have
been captured."

"How do you know? I can't see any thing."

"Neither can I; but listen, and you will _hear_ something. They are
taking their positions."

The boys remained silent, and the suppressed murmur of voices, the
strokes of muffled oars, and, now and then, a gentle splashing in the
water, as of an anchor dropped carefully overboard, could be
distinctly heard.

"I am still of the opinion," said Ben, "that we could run the blockade
before they could catch us."

"And I still think that we should get caught," said Frank. "If we
should attempt to hoist a sail, it could be heard across the river;
besides, there is no breeze."

"Then, try the oars."

"They would overtake us before we had gone twenty rods. You must
remember that they outnumber us, six to one, and could easily tire us
out, or cut us off from the island. Wait until the breeze springs up,
and then we will see what we can do."

"Listen," whispered Ben, suddenly; "some of the boats are coming down
this way. They are sending a division of the fleet to guard Ducks'
Creek."

And so it proved. The slow, measured strokes of oars came nearer and
nearer, and, finally, the tall, raking masts of three of the
swiftest-sailing boats in the squadron could be dimly seen moving down
the river toward the creek. As they approached, the smugglers
discovered that two boys, in a light skiff, led the way, and one of
them, who proved to be Charles Sheldon, pointed out the position he
wished each boat to occupy. The places assigne