The Gallops roared and screamed and threatened in a thousand voices. They danced and leaped like white teeth defrauded of their expected prey. For that time at least they were to be cheated of a harvest of disaster to which, in the years gone by, they had become accustomed as a regular toll on the part of those who braved their fangs.
The River Swallow’s bow, forced outward by the engines and the rudder, swerved slowly to port. The next instant, at racing speed, she shot by the Big Nigger, hurtled along like a helpless chip on the surface of the mad waters.
So closely did they shave disaster that, from the bridge, it would have been possible with extended fingers to touch the rough surface of the Big Nigger as they were swept by. The next moment the peril that had chilled the blood in their veins was behind them.
“And now for an explanation from Malvin,” spoke Ralph grimly. “I rather think that there is one coming.”
CHAPTER III.
THE MYSTERIOUS GRAY NIGHT CRAFT.
Perhaps Malvin, who had stood poised as if ready for a jump as they passed the Big Nigger, heard the boy. At any rate, as Ralph spoke, he turned.
“A terribly narrow escape that, sir,” he said.
Ralph told Persimmons to go below and attend to his engines before he replied. Then he turned on the man.
“Yes, a terribly narrow escape which might have ended in disaster for us all,” he said, with an emphasis that allowed no doubt as to his meaning. In case that Malvin had not fully understood him, he added:
“Malvin, your carelessness almost cost us all our lives.”