On board the lighter, the Buffer and his wife were too busy with the management of their vessel—a task to which they were not altogether equal—to notice the watch and pursuit instituted by the little boat.
In the manner described, the two parties pursued their way up the narrow space left by the crowds of shipping for the passage of vessels.
The Tower was passed—that gloomy fortalice which has known sighs as full of anguish and hearts as oppressed with bitter woe as ever did the prisons of the Inquisition, or the dungeons of the Bastille.
Then the Custom House was slowly left behind; and Billingsgate, world-renowned for its slang, was passed by the pursued and the pursuer.
To avoid the arch of London Bridge the Buffer lowered his mast; and then midway between that and Southwark Bridge, his intentions became apparent.
He was about to put in at a wharf on the Surrey side, where a large board on the building announced that lighters were bought or sold.
"Pull alongside the Fairy," cried Markham: "we must board her before she touches the wharf, or our prey may escape."
Benstead and Morcar plied the oars with a vigour which soon brought the boat within a few yards of the Fairy. The Buffer's attention was now attracted to it for the first time; but he did not immediately recognise the two rowers, because they had their backs turned towards the lighter.
"I should know that man!" suddenly exclaimed Richard, as he contemplated the Buffer, who was standing at the tiller, and who had his eyes fixed with some anxiety upon the boat, which was evidently pulling towards him.
"Who?" asked Benstead.