"Bill Bender and Sam Redding, I suppose you mean," said Tubby.

"Those their names?" asked the captain. "Well, I don't know any
good uv any uv 'em. Old Skipper here chased 'em away from my
melon patch the other day. I reckon they thought Old Scratch was
after them, the way they run; but they got away with some melons,
just the same."

The old man laughed aloud at the recollection of the marauders'
precipitous flight.

That Jack Curtiss and his two cronies had made a rendezvous of
the island was news to the boys, and not agreeable news, either.
They had been planning a patrol camp there later on in the
summer, and the bully and his two chums were not regarded by them
as desirable neighbors. However, they said nothing, as they
could not claim sole right to use the island, which was property
that had been so long in litigation that It had come to be known
as "No Man's Land" as well as by its proper name. The captain
was only a squatter there, but no one cared to disturb him, and
he had led the existence of a semi-hermit there for many years.

The Flying Fish rapidly covered the calm waters of the inlet and
was soon dancing over the swells outside.

"I'm going to let her out a bit," said Rob suddenly; "look out
for spray."

"Spray don't bother a brine-pickled old salt like me," laughed
the captain. "Let her go."