She said a half-angel; but when I too eagerly pulled out my mistress’s purse to pay her, her eyes gleamed and she said she was mistaken, she had no cloak there for less than a gold angel.
“Show it me,” said I, coming alongside.
It was what I wanted, yet I durst not say so. So I snatched it by force, and tossing the woman an angel, made off with my prize, leaving them amazed and swearing by all the heathen gods they had been robbed and left beggars.
While I delayed thus my pursuers had gained rapidly upon me, and I saw I must pull away in earnest if I was to avoid them. So, comforted to have the cloak, and resolved, if I rowed all the way from here to the sea, I would overtake the Miséricorde, I cast aside all languor and made my craft once more leap through the water. The wind was freshening fast and helped me on. Alas! I well knew it would soon do the same both for the Frenchman’s sails ahead, and for my pursuers behind. I own these latter were stronger rowers than I, for still they seemed to be creeping up upon me at every stroke, and by nothing I could do was I able to put more distance between us. Should they overtake me, there would be more delay, and that, whatever came of it, meant that the ship would be gone beyond all reach. However, when at length I swung round the point and looked up the broad reach that leads to Woolwich, there to my joy, half a mile ahead was the Miséricorde, setting her sails and waiting on the coming breeze.
I paused not to shout, but gathered together all my powers, and let out with my oars until I thought they would crack. For half-an-hour I could not say whether I was gaining on her, or my waterman on me. At length I resolved to risk the short delay of a signal. So I stood in my boat waving the cloak over my head and shouting “Halloo!” with all the breath in my body. I durst not wait more than a moment to watch for a reply. None came, but instead, the yards bellied with the wind. I flung myself with a groan on my seat, and took back my oars. Already the waterman was within shouting distance, and his comrades not far behind. But I heeded not their cries, and plunged my oars once again in bitter chase. It was long before I durst look round. Then, to my surprise, I saw her standing away in to the Essex shore with all her sails full of wind.
Then all seemed lost, till I reflected that she must come back for another tack before she could clear the bend. If so, I was safe. So I kept steadily on, scarcely holding my own with my pursuers, until at length, to my joy, I saw her put about and bear down full upon me. It was an anxious time as she came up. No one on board, it was clear, guessed who I might be; nor, I think, did any one perceive me as I lay there, except the man at the prow, who, seeing me resolved to be run down, left me to take my will. By this time my pursuer was a hundred yards away, thinking himself sure of me at last, and saving his breath. It was a race whether he or the Miséricorde would be upon me the sooner, but I settled that. For, as the ship came up, slowing towards the end of her tack, I took a few strokes out to meet her, and then turning my boats’ head quickly slipped close under. I had already marked a rope that hung from the poop within reach, and on this, when the moment came, I ventured my all. Taking the cloak over my shoulder, and casting away my oars, I sprang to my feet, and gave one leap which sent my empty boat staggering back into her owner’s hands, while it left me hanging ’twixt heaven and earth.
To haul myself aboard was the work of a minute; even as I did so, I could see out of the corner of my eye my pursuer staring round at me, amazed, while he reached out to secure his truant craft. But that was all I saw of him, for next moment I stood on deck half-fainting, face to face with Ludar and the maiden and a stranger.