The Mystery on Cobbett's Island by Kathryn Kenny Page B

a flashlight covered with red crepe paper to shine up into our faces?”
    â€œSure I do,” answered Diana. “Are you thinking of singing carols now, instead of sea chanteys?”
    â€œIt’s not a bad idea, folks,” Mart said. “Only one hundred and some odd days till Christmas.”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t that, silly, but I thought that if we could use the red protest flag to cover the flashlight, it might take the place of the buoy light,” answered Trixie.
    â€œNo sooner said than done,” said Peter as he quickly hauled down the red pennant.
    They took turns standing up and holding the flashlight as high as they could, turning it off and on at what they estimated to be six-second intervals. Just as they were beginning to worry lest the battery give out, they again heard the sound of a motor in the distance and saw a boat with a searchlight coming toward them. As it came nearer, they could hear the speed of the motor gradually being reduced. Again they stood up on the deck and yelled as loud as they could, and soon they knew they had been sighted. A huge searchlight circled the area, and in a few minutes, the boat came alongside the
Star Fire
.
    â€œIt’s the Coast Guard,” cried Peter, when the cutter was close enough for him to see it clearly. “What a break!” He got ready to catch the line which one of the sailors was holding ready to throw to him.

    â€œWhat are you doing out here at this time of night?” came an angry-sounding voice from the deck of the Coast Guard boat.
    â€œWe’re not here because we want to be, sir,” answered Peter. “I broke my rudder on the way back to Cobbett’s Island Yacht Club, but I managed to grab onto this buoy as we drifted past it. I’m Peter Kimball, and this is my Lightning.”
    â€œSo that’s it”—now the voice sounded less cross—“and just how did you rig up that signal?”
    â€œIt was just a flashlight covered with red cloth,” said Trixie. “Could you see it plainly?”
    â€œCertainly could,” the man answered as he jumped aboard the
Star Fire
. “I’m Captain Price of the Coast Guard,” he continued as he sat down in the stern.
    After Peter had introduced his friends, the captain continued. “We’ve been having no end of trouble with the flashing buoys in this area. Someone apparently thinks it great sport to break the bulbs. This makes the fourth time this one has been knocked out. When I saw you tied up here, I thought I’d caught the culprit, but no such luck.”
    Two of the men from the Coast Guard boat had been working to replace the broken bulb, and when it started flashing again, cries of “Hurray!” and “Threecheers for the Coast Guard!” went up from the
Star Fire
.
    â€œPersonally, I’d say ‘Three cheers for the
Star Fire
,’ ” said Captain Price, smiling at them, “and especially for Trixie, here, for thinking up that emergency light.”
    Trixie was glad it was so dark that no one could see her face, for she knew it was flaming.
    â€œAnd now, if you will be my guests, I’ll give you a tow back to the club,” the captain added as he stood up and prepared to board the cutter.
    â€œI’m sorry I ever said anything mean about a stinkpot,” Peter apologized. “I mean a powerboat,” he added hastily. “I guess they
do
have a purpose all their own, and it’s mighty lucky for us you came along when you did, sir.”
    â€œThe Coast Guard is always happy to oblige,” replied the captain. “You know, personally, I prefer sailboats, too, but in the service we find these—er, ahem—stinkpots more practical.”
    One of the crew had already released the line Peter had thrown around the buoy, and it had been made fast to the cutter. On orders from Captain Price, the big boat began to move slowly ahead with the Lightning