Then Halstead threw off the power without applying the reverse. The “Restless” drifted under what was left of her headway.
“They’ve done it,” uttered Tom Halstead, grimly. “They’ve given us the slip—gotten away in this white mass of mystery!”
Shaking, Powell Seaton leaned against the deck-house, his face pallid with sheer misery.
CHAPTER XVI
A GLEAM OF HOPE THROUGH THE SHROUD OF FOG
Resting one hand lightly on the top spokes of the wheel, young Halstead turned to his employer with a look of keenest sympathy.
“Is there any order you wish to give now, Mr. Seaton?”
“What order can I give,” demanded the charter-man, with a piteous smile, “unless it be to say, ‘find the drab boat’?”