“He may follow,” thought Albert, “and I cannot, with any show of reason, quarrel with him for the same thing that I am doing myself; but he shall not, if I can help it, be foremost in the chase.”
While these reflections were passing through Seyton’s mind, the boat in which was Jacob Gray was shooting far ahead; and by Albert’s direction, the waterman who rowed the wherry in which he (Albert) sat, moved into another channel, so as not to seem to follow Gray’s boat, although he easily kept it in view.
“You quite understand me,” said Albert; “I wish to follow yon wherry sufficiently close to see where it lands its passengers without being seen myself. My object is an honest one, and I pray you, as you know the river, to adopt some course which will accomplish my purpose.”
“I tell you what it is,” said the waterman. “The safest way in the world to follow a boat, is to pass it.”
“Rather a strange way of following,” said Albert.
“I don’t exactly mean following,” added the man; “but finding out where it’s a going to. Now, I can easily pass Ben’s boy, and then all we have to do, is to take no notice, but keep on ahead for a little way till they puts in at some stairs. They won’t suspect nothink then.”
“That is a very good plan,” said Albert; “but he I am following knows me by sight, I fear too well, to make it safe or practicable.”
“Oh!—He does—does he? Then I’ll tell you what you’ll do—put on my jacket and badge, and this red night-cap, and I’ll be hanged if your own mother would know you.”
“Row easy, then, that the change may not be noticed,” said Albert.
The boatman dipped but one oar languidly in the stream, and allowed the wherry to drift among some barges when he instantly shipped his oars, and doffing his coat and red night-cap, he tendered them to Albert, who was soon attired in the very cumbrous garment, which went on easily over all his other clothing. He then gathered up all his long hair, and confined it under his red night-cap, which he pulled on nearly to his eyes.