"
One of the men on the lookout in the bows, who had never departed
from his duty for an instant throughout this frightful commotion, now
reported:
"Cutter crossing our bow, sir! Getting back to her course."
"Keep her in view," roared Rogers.
"Port, sir!"
"How's that?"
"Starboard, easy!"
"Keep her in view!"
"As she is, sir!"
Again they settled down to the pursuit, and it began to dawn upon
Stringer's mind that the boat ahead must be engined identically with
that of the police; for whilst they certainly gained nothing upon her,
neither did they lose.
"Try a hail," cried Rogers from the stern. "We may be chasing the wrong
boat!"
"Cutter 'hoy!" bellowed the man beside Stringer, using his hands in lieu
of a megaphone--"heave to!"
"Give 'em 'in the King's name!'" directed Rogers again.
"Cutter 'hoy," roared the man through his trumpeted hands,--"heave
to--in the King's name!"
Stringer glared through the fog, clutching at the shoulder of the
shouter almost convulsively.
"Take no notice, sir," reported the man.
"Then it's the gang!" cried Rogers from the stern; "and we haven't made
a mistake. Where the blazes are we?"
"Well on the way to Blackwall Reach, sir," answered someone. "Fog
lifting ahead."
"It's the rain that's doing it," said the man beside Stringer.
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