Back on his camp-stool on the narrow deck, he felt as a man must feel after burning his bridges, a little shaky. He knew the lengths to which a stubborn will may carry a person, and he was not at all sure of her coming. Not that he meant to draw back; he spoke truth in saying he would have died first; he was a good swimmer, and he had no serious doubt of his ability to reach the shore, but he did not fancy being dragged out on a pier drenched and shoeless, and having to give an account of himself. And in that case Corinna would win out anyway. The only way he could really get the better of her would be by committing suicide, and he was not prepared to go as far as that.
To save time the Ernestina passed through Buttermilk channel between Brooklyn and Governor's Island. On the New York side the slips of South Ferry and Hamilton Ferry passed before Evan's eyes, and a little later Wall street ferry. The bridge was not visible to him where he sat, but he knew it was looming close ahead; the next ferry-house, Fulton Ferry, was almost directly under it. Finally he got an oblique view of the approach to the bridge with the trolley cars and trucks crawling upon it, and he stooped over to untie his shoes.
Suddenly the Ernestina gave a little lurch, and he looked up to see what was the matter. She was swinging around again! She turned her tail to Brooklyn Bridge and started out to sea again. Certainly if anybody had been following her course that morning they would have been justified in supposing the Captain to be slightly demented.
Evan laced up his shoes. He grinned to himself in mixed satisfaction and chagrin. Corinna had found a way to evade the choice he had given her! True, she had prevented him from jumping overboard, but she had not come to him. Clearly she preferred to endure his presence on the boat all day rather than give him five minutes alone with her.
The only thing he could think of to bring her was the power of curiosity. Perhaps if he stayed where he was she would be forced in the end to come see what had happened to him. He determined to try it anyhow.
"But as soon as she looks out of the door and sees me safe, she'll fly back," he thought. He moved his stool around to the very stern of the Ernestina. Here he was invisible unless one came all the way round to see.
Here his patience was indeed put to a test. He had nothing to read—he could not have applied his mind to it, if he had had, and he dared not smoke for fear of betraying himself. All he could do was to sit and study the scenery. The Ernestina went back through Buttermilk channel, and rounded Red Hook. She passed the Erie basin where upon the boundary fence Evan had the edification of reading a sign half a mile long extolling the virtues of a certain English condiment. And they say the English are not enterprising! She crossed the mouth of Gowanus bay and passed the villas of Bay Ridge, and still nothing happened.
But as she approached the Narrows, Evan thought he heard one of the sliding doors squeak, and his heart leaped. Jumping up he flattened himself against the deck house. There was an agonising pause. If only he dared peep around the side. Then Corinna came plump into view.
At sight of him a sharp exclamation escaped her. She hung motionless for a moment, her face fixed in a comical mask of surprise and indignation, like a child's, then she turned to run.
"Wait!" cried Evan peremptorily.