steamer, ploughing her way through the water, seemed to Captain
Hardy to be almost motionless, so keen were his fears that he would be
too late. He pulled out his watch and groaned. The boat was well into
the East River, but it was already almost nine o'clock. In agony of
mind he began to pace up and down the deck.

"Got an answer," said Lieutenant Gavigan, suddenly coming out of the
cabin, and he thrust a paper into Captain Hardy's hand.

The latter stepped toward the light and read it. "Give any assistance
requested," it read. "Thank goodness, that's settled," muttered
Captain Hardy.

Then he turned to the lieutenant, who was now more than ready to
oblige. "Can't you get a little more speed out of her?" he demanded.

"I'll try," said the boat's commander, and he strode off to the engine
room.

Past the Brooklyn Bridge, past the Manhattan Bridge, past the Navy
Yard, past factories and offices and great rows of tenements, the
little police-boat sped on. But the hands of Captain Hardy's watch
sped faster. Past Blackwell's Island, with its long prison buildings,
past the little lighthouse at its northern end, past the darkened area
of the East River Park, on toward the blackness of Hell Gate with its
frightful swirling waters, rushed the speeding craft. And now, drawn
by a common interest, boys and men alike crowded the bow, and policemen
and scouts stood in a close knot, gazing eagerly ahead into the
darkness.

A motor-boat suddenly shot across the path of the Patrol. "Halt!"
cried Lieutenant Gavigan, seizing a megaphone. The motor-boat came to.
Lieutenant Gavigan was about to stop to examine it.

"Go on," said Captain Hardy tensely. "That's not the boat--and there's
only one man in it anyway. We're after a gang."

Darker became the way. The river broadened. The waters grew troubled.
High above loomed the great arch of the new railroad bridge over Hell
Gate. A sailing craft drifted silently toward them. Lieutenant
Gavigan looked questioningly toward Captain Hardy. The latter shook
his head.

Again he drew forth his watch and held it close to his face. "Nine
ten," he said, in a voice that shook with emotion.

On rushed the little steamer. It began to turn its nose toward the
wicked waters that gave the region its name. Then it ploughed into the
swirls and headed for the smooth reaches beyond. No craft of any sort
could be seen.

"We'll have to go through," said the lieutenant. "We can