The Flight On The River.
The boat, by Nick's direction was hastily rowed away from the most conspicuous locality and then brought near the yacht by a roundabout way, in which the supposed river thieves ran less chance of being seen.
It was yet early in the evening, perhaps ten o'clock, but that part of the bay was deserted.
They approached the yacht from the side farthest from the statue, and finally ran up under her stern, where the painter was made fast to the rudder chains.
Then, for many moments, they kept perfectly quiet.
Not a sound disturbed them, and when seemingly satisfied that their approach had been unobserved, Nick leaned over and whispered in Red Rob's ear.
“We're here, pardy,” he said. “I wish I was sure of you, but I ain't, see? Three could do this work better than two; but as it is, you'll have ter stay in the boat, jest as ye are, see? Ef ye croak, er make a sound, I'll knife ye, as sure as my name is Sneaker. Ef ye keep mum, I'll talk to ye later, see?”
Nick turned at once to Chick.
“Rattler,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“You stay here till I come back.”
“Keyrect!”
“Ef ye hear me shoot, cast off the painter, an' keep ther boat right where it is, see?”
“Yes.”
“Grab the oars an' be ready, cos I'll vey ter spring fur it.”
Nick seized the chain in his grasp, and in another instant disappeared aboard the yacht.
Nick was gone a very long time. Chick pretended to grow very uneasy, although he knew perfectly well what was keeping the detective.
He knew that Nick was at that moment in the cabin of the yacht engaged in conversation with the men who had been sent there by Superintendent Campbell of the Brooklyn police.
The encounter with Red Rob had rendered a change in their original plans imperative, and the young assistant knew that his chief was at that moment engaged in giving the instructions for the necessary alterations.
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, when suddenly the loud report of a pistol rang out on the night.
Chick, with an exclamation of dismay, cast the painter loose, and waited.
The next instant a dark form bounded through the air from the stern of the yacht, and the figure of the detective landed in the boat.
“Quick!” he whispered. “Pull, Rattler! Pull for your life! The yacht is loaded with cops! Pull!”
Chick was quick to obey.
The boat was pushed away from the yacht, and the young detective bent to the oars with all his strength.
A dozen dark forms appeared upon the stern of the yacht and a dozen revolvers blazed forth at them.
But either the officers were poor marksmen or else they did not make a great effort to hit the fugitives, for not a bullet took effect.
Still they continued to fire.
Nick, with a second pair of oars, aided Chick in the effort to escape.
“They're lowering a boat!” suddenly exclaimed Chick, who was pulling the stroke oar.
“Curse 'em!” said Nick, keeping up the character he was playing. “If they chase us too fast I'll' let 'em know how a Philadelphian can shoot.”
On—on they flew over the darkened waters. The policemen from the yacht had lowered a boat which was manned by three pairs of oars instead of two.
On—on over the black waters flew pursuer and pursued, and the rain, as if in anger at the outrage, pelted down in torrents upon them.
On, on, straining every muscle and sinew; on, on, and yet the police boat gained.
“They're gaining!” muttered Chick. Nick suddenly dropped his oars. With a quick motion he drew his revolver and fired.
There was a loud cry from the pursuing boat, and the bow oarsman disappeared.
Again Nick's weapon spoke, and the second oarsman in the police boat sank from view.
Two others sprang to take their places.
“You've laid out two of 'em,” exclaimed Chick.
“Yes, an' I'll do fur two more ef they don't turn back,” was Nick's response.
Again Nick raised his weapon, and again he fired twice, this time in rapid succession.
Two more men went down. “Two more!” cried Chick. “Now we're safe!” Red Rob could not know that it was all a fake.
He could not know that Nick had purposely fired high over the heads of the policemen, and that those who were supposed to be shot down in cold blood were really lying in the bottom of the boat laughing heartily at the game they were playing.
But Red Rob, who heard the exclamations uttered by the two detectives believed that the man who called himself Sneaker was not only the most daring river thief he had ever seen, but one of the best marksmen as well.
“That settles their hash!” growled Nick. But at that instant a new danger was announced.
“Halt!” cried a voice ahead of them out of the darkness.
Nick turned in astonishment.
What he saw was a real danger instead of an assumed one.
The regular river patrol was there. A boat manned by three policemen, all determined men, and men who knew nothing of the plot in which they were about to play an important and serious part.
But the detective had gone too far to think of backing out now.
He knew that they were in the presence of a genuine danger.
He knew that if the men in the patrol boat fired they would shoot to kill.
In an instant he made his plans.
They were desperate, but there was no other way.
“Who goes there?” he cried.
“The patrol! Halt and surrender, or we'll shoot!” was the answer.
“We give in,” was the detective's response. Red Rob quaked with fear.
He believed that Sneaker had already four murders to answer for, and he wondered that so desperate a character should surrender in the face of such a charge.
“Row up to us, then,” came the order from the patrol. “We've got you covered.”
“All right. We're coming.”
Then Nick bent over Red Rob. “Can I depend upon you?” he whispered, quickly removing the gag from the man's mouth.
“Yes.”
“Do as I tell you and we'll escape.”
“I'll do it, Sneaker.”
“No more shooting, mind. There's been enough.”
Then he cut the cords which bound the river thief.
“Can you swim?” he asked.
“Like a fish.”
“Good! Obey orders and we'll escape. If you fail we'll be taken, see?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Dump 'em.”
“Into the river?”
“You bet.”
“Where are the others?”
“Dead; I shot 'em.”
In the meantime Chick had been slowly drawing nearer to the patrol boat.
Nick had said nothing to him of his plans, but the faithful-young assistant knew that he had but to follow the lead of his chief, no matter what happened.
Nearer and nearer they drew to the boat which contained the policemen.
“What was that shooting about?” demanded one of the officers, as they drew near enough for conversation.
“The cops!” replied Nick. “Shooting at you?”
“Yes.”
“And you shot back?”
“Not much.”
“You lie. We saw and heard you.”
“You lie yourself,” was the quick response. “What do you want us to do? Climb into your boat?”
“Yes, one at a time. We'll fix you.”
“Oh, you will, eh?”
“Rather. We've been looking for you fellows for some time.”
While the officer was speaking Nick raised himself to climb into the boat. He had placed one of his feet upon the gunwale of the patrol when the policeman ceased his remarks.
“Now you've got us, and now you haven't!” cried the detective.
At the same instant he exerted all his great strength, and with a motion as unexpected as it was effective, he threw himself forward in to the police boat with all his weight upon one side.
He knew that the instant the boat began to tip the instinct of self-preservation would compel the officers to lean the other way, and he had calculated upon that.
He was not mistaken.
As the boat tipped the policemen threw themselves the other way to right it.
Then, while with one foot the detective sent his own boat out of the way in safety he allowed himself to pitch across the police boat landing with his full weight upon the opposite gunwale.
The policemen were already upon that side. The additional weight had exactly the effect that Nick had calculated upon.
The boat was instantly capsized, and Nick and the three officers were tumbled unceremoniously into the river.
The whole thing took place so quickly that the officers had no time to guess what was coming.
Nick, who did it all, took measures to secure his own safety.
As the boat was capsized, he dove like a fish beneath the water.
Then he swam with all his strength before again coming to the surface.
He knew that his own boat had not been overturned, and he believed that he could reach it, clamber in and be rowed safely away before the police would know exactly what had happened.
There were a few sputtering cries of dismay, a few curses, and then silence.
Then four heads bobbed up on the surface of the water.
Three were close to the overturned boat. The other was close to the boat which contained Chick and Red Rob.