“Can you see him?” roared the officer, using his hands as a speaking-trumpet.
There was no reply; but the lantern could be seen rising and falling now, as the little craft began to reach the swell at the harbour bar. Then there was a hail out of the harbour, as the second boat came along, and five minutes after the rapid beat of oars told of the coming of another boat.
“Ahoy, lad! this way,” rose from the boat with the lantern.
“Whose boat’s that?” said the detective, quickly.
“Dunno,” replied the nearest policeman.
“They’ll pick him up, and he’ll escape after all. Confound it! Here, hoi! you in that boat. In the Queen’s name, stop and take me aboard.”
“They won’t pick him up,” said the nearest policeman solemnly. “You don’t know this coast.”
There was a low groan from a figure crouching upon its knees, and supporting a woman’s head, happily insensible to what was passing around.
“George, lad,” whispered Uncle Luke, “for the poor girl’s sake, let’s get her home. George! don’t you hear me? George! It is I—Luke.”
There was no reply, and the excitement increased as a swift boat now neared the end of the point.