The grizzled seaman took the helm. In ten minutes it began to look blue for Patsy and his chief. The Clio had reasserted her superiority. She was slowly dropping the Curlew astern.
When they tacked on the other side of the river the Clio had doubled her lead. In an hour the Curlew was half a mile behind.
"Where are ye bound?" asked the old tar.
"There's a vessel anchored in the harbor. I'll show you where. You're to put me aboard and keep still about it. The hundred is yours, and as much more to go with it."
They were nearly abreast the Battery, when suddenly the police-boat was seen heading toward them.
"That's the 'Patrol,'" said Deever. "Give her a wide berth."
Instead of complying, the boatman put his helm over, and stood straight toward the tug.
"Here!" cried Deever; "what does this mean?"
"It means," said the boatman, "that you're my prisoner, Patrick Deever. I am Nick Carter."
Ten minutes later they were both aboard the police-boat, and in another hour Nick had redeemed his pledge to produce Patrick Deever alive before the superintendent.