“Here we are!” cried Dicky Nahl at the door. “You get aboard the tug and push off. Jake and I will run up to the foot of the wharf. If they come, we can keep 'em off long enough for you to get aboard.” Dicky had a revolver in each hand, and the determined ring of his voice, so different from his usual light bantering tone, gave me assurance of his sincerity. With the horseman he hastened to the entrance of the wharf, where the two loomed through the mist like shadow-men.
The tug was where it lay when we left, and at my hail the captain and his crew of three were astir. It was a moment's work to get Mrs. Knapp and her charge aboard.
“Come on!” I cried to Dicky and his companion. And as the lines were cast off they made a running jump on to the deck of the tug boat, and the vessel backed out into the stream.
As the wharf faded away into the mist that hung over the waters I thought I saw shapes of men and horses rushing frantically to the edge, and a massive figure waving its arms like a madman, and shouting impotent curses into the air. But with the distance, the uncertain light, and the curtain of mist that was thickening between us, my eyes might have deceived me, and I omitted to mention my suspicions to Mrs. Knapp.
When the mist and darkness had blotted out shore, wharves and shipping, the tug moved at half-speed down the channel. I persuaded the captain that there was no need to sound the whistle, but he declined gruffly to increase his speed.
“I might as well be shot as run my boat ashore,” he growled, with a few emphatic seamanlike adjectives that appeared to belong to nothing in particular. “And any one that doesn't like my way of running a boat can get out and walk.”
I did not know of any particular reason for arguing the question, so I joined Mrs. Knapp.
“Thank God, we are safe!” she said, with a sigh of relief.
“We shall be in the city in half an hour, if that is safety,” I said.
“It will be safety for a few days. Then we can devise a new plan. I have a strong arm to lean on again.”