“Almost into the Bay of Fundy!” the captain replied.
“Far from Hankton?”
“Forty land miles,” the skipper told him.
Tom groaned. He looked at Bud and exhaled heavily.
“I guess that takes care of our meeting,” Bud said.
“You’re supposed to be in Hankton at a certain time?” the captain asked.
“Before two o’clock,” Tom explained.
“It’s only 10:45 now,” the captain said, looking at his watch, “and we sure aren’t going to do any fishing without nets. This is really a speedboat converted into a fishing trawler. But she’s fast. We’ll get you to Hankton in about two hours and a half.”
“Great!” Tom cried. “Can you do it in this fog?”
“Know the way by heart.” The captain laughed. “Men,” he said to his crew, “how about fixin’ these fellows up with coats and shoes? And help ‘em dry their other things.”
The boys were quickly taken care of, then went to stand near the captain who was piloting. The speedboat was soon knifing the water at twenty knots. As noon approached, the sun created a bright glow through the thick haze.
“It’s breaking some,” the skipper observed.
“A little fog will be better for carrying out our plans,” Tom murmured to Bud.
68 TOM SWIFT AND HIS ROCKET SHIP
“Assuming it didn’t ground Hein and Johnson somewhere else,” his friend rejoined.
“If this fog lifts a bit more,” the captain remarked, “we can hold our speed all the way in!”
It did lift considerably for the last three miles. As the craft streaked in wide open, the fishing dock and the two adjacent coves of Hankton loomed up ahead.
“Bud!” Tom whispered. “Two aluminum seaplanes are here!”