“Then the race is on; and good luck attend the better boat,” said the government agent, coolly taking out a cigar, biting off the end, and proceeding to apply a lighted match to the same.
They were fairly flying through the water. On either side the waves parted, and rolled over smothered in foam; while in their wake a roller kept following close on their heels.
“Twenty miles if anything?” the gentleman guessed.
“More than that, sir,” replied the skipper, proudly; “but she can do better still. I’ve got another notch to let out if I have to. Don’t want to take the chances unless it’s positively necessary; because you see the quivering rattles her so much. Are we holding our own, do you think, Jack?”
“I am sure of that,” came the reply. “And if you asked me again I’d say we are gaining a little all the while.”
“Bully old Wireless!” exclaimed George, his voice filled with pride. “She can do the stunt all right if only something don’t happen to throw us out of our gear. She’s a wonder, that’s what, and I’ve always said so. Talk about sprinting, did you ever go as fast as this in a small boat, sir?”
“I certainly never have,” replied the government agent; and from the way he was staggering around, clutching hold of every object that promised to keep him erect, it looked as though he might just as well have added: “and Heaven deliver me from ever experiencing it again.”
“Everybody keep a sharp lookout for rocks or anything of the sort,” said George; “because those men must know this region like a book, and it would be just like ’em to lead us in a trap, so we’d be wrecked.”
“Yes, you’re correct there, George,” observed the agent, “and I give you credit for having a long head. That’s the kind of chaps you’re up against right now, full of trickery; desperate men, whose one idea is escape.”
“This moonlight is all right as long as the other boat isn’t any further away than she is,” remarked George a minute or two later.