"Alb," said I, "just throw a look over your shoulder, and say what manner of thing you think that is coming after us."
He threw the look. "I think," he answered slowly, "that it's by way of being Sir Alec MacNairne's 'Wilhelmina.'"
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "you take it pretty calmly." But even as I reproached him, I was conscious of an increase of speed. Alb can regulate this by means of a long lever which goes down through the deck to the motor.
"What makes you think it's Sir Alec?" I asked. "You can't tell yet what the thing looks like."
"Neither can you," said Alb. "You felt what it was. It's the same with me. I feel it's 'Wilhelmina,' and I'm going to try and give her the slip again, if I can. But honestly, if it's she, and she wants to overhaul us, we haven't got much chance weighted down by 'Waterspin.' If it weren't for that, I'd guarantee to let 'Wilhelmina' see nothing but our heels."
"Let's cut 'Waterspin' adrift," I whispered, glaring at poor Toon, who stood steering the squat little barge, with an irritatingly complacent look on his nice face.
"Impossible, my dear fellow. But you don't mean it, of course."
"I'm capable of meaning anything," said I. "See here, old Alb, you've pulled me through a lot of things, since you tied yourself round my neck; pull me through this, and you shall be best man at my wedding."
"Who'll be the bride?" he asked, as I stared back at the following craft, which was now too big to be called a speck. It was a black blot upon the water, as upon my hopes.
"The bride?" I repeated. "Why, N—Oh, by Jove! wasn't she the one you wanted at one time? You never would tell which, you know, so you can't blame me."