the canoe whirled under it, then shot up the
other side of the ship into the teeth of the tide, back once more to
the stern, and while the puzzled sentinels on the deck were wondering
what had become of the canoe he was disappearing in the fog, the
success of his strategy giving zest to his enterprise. He had kept his
bearings as best he could, but was not quite certain of his position,
as he drifted once more.

"Boat ahoy! Who goes there?"

The challenge came, not from overhead, but from the fog before him. A
backward stroke arrested his movement. Again the hail and no reply.

"Up with the anchor! Out with your oars!"

Evidently he had drifted upon one of the boats anchored in the
ferry-way. Paddling away, he suddenly heard the swash of waves, and
found himself approaching a wharf, but on which side the river he
could not say.

"Boat ahoy! Halt, or I'll fire," the hail that came to him.

Peering into the mist, he saw the dim outline of a soldier raising his
musket.

"Hold on. Don't fire. Please point me in the direction of the Boyne,"
said Robert.

The sentinel lowered his musket as if saying to himself, "This must be
one of the officers of the frigate who has been on shore having a good
time."

"The Boyne is right out in that direction," said the sentinel,
pointing with his musket, "but my orders are not to let any one pass
along the wharf after ten o'clock without they give the countersign."

"All right; always obey orders. I'll come to the wharf."

Robert could hear the dip of oars in the fog, and knew it must be the
patrol boat pursuing him. He paddled towards the wharf as if to give
the countersign, but the next moment shot under it as the other boat
approached.

"Boat ahoy!" he heard the sentinel shout.

"Ahoy yourself! We are the patrol. Have you seen a canoe?"

"Yes, and the man inquired where the Boyne was lying, and disappeared
quicker than greased lightning when he heard you coming."

Robert was making his way, the while, amid the piles of the wharf. He
knew the tide must be near its full flood, for he had to crouch low in
the canoe, and the barnacles upon the piles were nearly covered with
the water. He doubted if the patrol could follow him. Should he remain
secreted? No. They might light a torch and discover him. Noiselessly
he paddled amid the piles to the farther side of the wharf, and then
glided from its shelter along the shore, screened from the patrol by
the projecting timbers, a