For some little time they continued to shove along down the river, with both boats doing splendidly. Just how many miles an hour they were making Jack could not say positively; but he thought it must be in the neighborhood of fifteen.
George called out a number of times, and begged the other skipper to do something more than just crawl. It seemed to be a painful experience to the captain of the Wireless, and yet when he was taken to task later on for his impatience, and made to see how well his engine had behaved when not constantly meddled with, and pushed to its utmost limit, George candidly admitted that Jack’s plan was by long odds the best for all concerned, indeed, the only one they could have followed, under the circumstances.
They were certainly putting the miles behind them as they kept on flying down with the current. Jack had to figure it out, so as to see about what sort of a lead the fugitive white boat had on them.
He could give something of a guess as to about how many minutes had elapsed between the time the other craft had started past the lower end of the island, and that marking their own departure. That was not over ten minutes all told, he believed, though had any of the others been asked they would have said twice that because they were excited at the time, and seconds were drawn out doubly long.
Well, saying that it was ten minutes, and the boat was going at the rate of twelve miles an hour that would mean the stolen craft had a lead of about two miles all told. Jack knew that they should cut this down before an hour had crept by, unless something happened to hold them up, an accident to the Wireless, or to his own motor.
So when something like half an hour had gone, he began to exhibit more or less anxiety as to whether any signs of the white boat could be seen down-stream. In order to find this out at the earliest opportunity Jack had stationed his “crew” up forward in the bow, where he could have nothing in the way; and as the moon was about in the east he was not compelled to stare into its bright shaft of silvery light.
Every once in a while Jack would call out to ask whether there had anything appeared in sight. Josh answered him three separate times, and then laughingly said:
“Say, d’ye know what you make me think of, Jack? Remember in the old nursery tale of Bluebeard, where the poor wife, whose head is going to be cut off by the bad man keeps calling up to her sister, who is watching the road for the coming of their brothers: ‘Sister Ann, Sister Ann, is there anything coming?’ Well, just now, Jack, I can’t even say I see a cloud of dust in the distance, as Sister Ann—hold on there, Josh, don’t be in such a big hurry. Is that a moving object, or are you seeing things that hadn’t ought to be there?”
He bent forward the better to look. Just then from the other boat the voice of Andy was heard to call out eagerly: