“Have no fears,” replied Fawkes, rowing swiftly down the stream. “We shall easily escape.”
“We will not be taken alive,” returned Catesby, seating himself on one of the barrels, and hammering against the lid with the butt-end of his petronel. “I will sooner blow us all to perdition than he shall capture us.”
“You are right,” replied Fawkes. “By my patron, Saint James, he is taking the same course as ourselves.”
“Well, let him board us,” replied Catesby. “I am ready for him.”
“Do as you think proper if the worst occurs,” returned Fawkes. “But, if we make no noise, I am assured we shall not be perceived.”
With this he ceased rowing, and suffered the boat to drop down the stream. As ill-luck would have it, it seemed as if the hostile bark had struck completely into their track, and, aided by the current, and four sturdy rowers, was swiftly approaching.
“The Earl will be upon us in a few minutes,” replied Catesby. “If you have any prayers to offer, recite them quickly, for I swear I will be as good as my word.”
“I am ever prepared for death,” replied Fawkes. “Ha! we are saved!”
This last exclamation was occasioned by his remarking a large barge, towards which they were rapidly drifting.
“What are you about to do?” cried Catesby.—"Leap on board, and abandon the skiff, together with its contents?”