“Ah, ay, sir.”
“Shall I take them in charge, Mr Russell?” whispered Mark.
“No, my lad; I want you for company. Keep your eyes well skinned, as the Yankees say. If you sight the vessel first I’ll give you a ring.”
“Thankye, sir,” said Mark, and then to himself, “No such luck!”
The next moment he was peering over the heads of the men, and to right and left, straight into the black darkness, as the boat was steered, as nearly as they could guess, right up the river, the only guide they had being the steady rush of the muddy water which they had to stem.
“Seems a Blindman’s Buff sort of game, doesn’t it, Mr Russell?” whispered Mark, at the end of a couple of hours.
“Yes, my lad, it’s all chance work. I only wish, though, that we could blunder on to the abominable craft. They’ll be too sharp for us I’m afraid.”
Another hour passed, and they were still completely shut up in the darkness, with a thick haze overhead; and at last the lieutenant whispered,—“Lucky if we don’t some of us catch fever to-night.”
“Look here, Vandean, if we don’t soon see something I shall signal the ship for a recall. We shall do nothing to-night. Eh? what?”
“I heard voices off to the left,” Mark whispered. “Then it’s the schooner,” said the lieutenant, in a suppressed voice. “Give way, my lads! steady! I shall lay the boat alongside, and you must board her somehow. Coxswain only stay in the boat.”