Why, we were almost level with the wharf when we
left, and if they came from BELOW that, as you say, they must have been
below water!"
"There they are, anyway," growled Stringer.
Mile after mile that singular chase continued through the night. With
every revolution of the screw, the banks to right and left seemed
to recede, as the Thames grew wider and wider. A faint saltiness was
perceptible in the air; and Stringer, moistening his dry lips, noted the
saline taste.
The shipping grew more scattered. Whereas, at first, when the fog had
begun to lift, they had passed wondering faces peering at them from
lighters and small steamers, tow boats and larger anchored craft,
now they raced, pigmy and remote, upon open waters, and through the
raindrift gray hulls showed, distant, and the banks were a faint blur.
It seemed absurd that, with all those vessels about, they nevertheless
could take no steps to seek assistance in cutting off the boat which
they were pursuing, but must drive on through the rain, ever losing,
ever dropping behind that black speck ahead.
A faint swell began to be perceptible. Stringer, who throughout the
whole pursuit thus far had retained his hold upon the man in the bows,
discovered that his fingers were cramped.
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