"They're making for the harbour, anyway," said Harry
Corwin, "and so she can't get away from us if we lose her now." Even as
he ended the last pallid rays of the moon vanished and they found
themselves in darkness save for the wan radiance of the stars. Lights
unnoticed before sprang up in the gloom along the shore and a dim
radiance in the sky showed where the town of Gloucester slumbered.
"If they double on us now we'll lose them," muttered Steve. "Put that
light out, Joe. We can see better without it."
"How far off is the harbour?" asked Harry.
"About two miles. You can hear the whistle buoy. That white light to the
left of the red flash is the beacon on the end of the breakwater." He
moved the helm a trifle and examined the chart. "There are no rocks,
anyway, and that's a comfort. I can't say I like this running at night.
How far away was she when the moon went back on us, Harry?"
"Oh, three-quarters, at a rough guess."
"Nearer a mile and a quarter, I'd say. Well, if she doesn't dodge along
shore we'll have her in the harbour. Always supposing, that is, that she
really is the _Follow Me_."
"She can't be anything else," answered Harry. "No sensible skipper would
go ploughing around at night without a light.
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