“What are we to do now?”
“Wait till the ebb, I suppose; or get a ferryman to row us.”
“Ferryman be damned. If we wait for the ebb we’ll not get out before daylight.”
Frank went round to the opening in the Embankment, and walked down the steps.
“Can I be of any use?” he said.
“Yes, you can, by taking yourself off,” was the surly rejoinder from stroke.
“Nonsense! Don’t go, sir. Can you row?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t want you to think. I thought I could row until I met this infernal tide.”
“Well, I can row against tide, or with it.”