“Cast off,” said he to the men in charge. “And let us see what time you can make between here and North Brother Island.”
XIX
ON BOARD THE VIXEN
“Through the scud and fog, and the flying spray
We drove all night till the break of the day.
Yo ho, my lads, yo ho.”
—An Improvisation of Garry Webster.
The lines were let go and the boat shoved off; then the gasoline engine was started, and after a moment’s hesitancy in getting under way, the fleet craft buried its nose in the water and shot down the Harlem toward East River.
“Now,” said Garry Webster, in a low tone to Kenyon; “now that there seems to be a moment in which we can take breath, what in the name of the fire-eyed gods does all this mean?”
Kenyon laughed.
“If you will come down into the cabin,” said he, “I’ll try and tell you about it.”