There was a small tug
there, the crew of which were just making her fast for the night.
"Fifty dollars if you'll take us out to the _Durham_ and catch her before
she sails," Quest shouted to the man who seemed to be the captain. "What
do you say?"
The man spat out a plug of tobacco from his mouth.
"I'd take you to hell for fifty dollars," he answered tersely. "Step in.
We'll make it, if you look quick."
They clambered down the iron ladder and jumped on to the deck of the tug.
The captain seized the wheel. The two men who formed the crew took off
their coats and waistcoats.
"Give it her, Jim," the former ordered. "Now, then, here goes! We'll just
miss the ferry."
They swung around and commenced their journey. Quest stood with his watch
in his hand. They were getting up the anchor of the _Durham_, and from
higher up the river came the screech of steamers beginning to move on
their outward way.
"We'll make it all right," the captain assured them.
They were within a hundred yards of the _Durham_ when Quest gave a little
exclamation. From the other side of the steamer another tug shot away,
turning back towards New York. Huddled up in the stern, half concealed in
a tarpaulin, was a man in a plain black suit. Quest, with a little shout,
recognised the man at the helm from his long brown beard.
"That's one of those fellows who was in the truck," he declared, "and
that's Craig in the stern! We've got him this time. Say, Captain, it's
that tug I want.
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