"Hey, Jake—come here!"
Introduced as Mr. Breed, Jake pleaded guilty to ownership of the fastest and staunchest power-cruiser in the adjacent waters. His terms, though extortionate, were undisputed. And Alan readily consented to Mr. Breed's condition—that his crew (of one man) accompany the vessel to bring her back from New Bedford. Then, enjoining haste, and promising to be at the town-wharf within ten minutes, he hastened to join Rose and Barcus and complete the ruin that they had wrought on a plentiful hot supper.
Neither man mentioned the rocket or his fears. Pending developments, there was no profit in exciting Rose's anxieties: haste was the one prescription of that hour.
This they observed religiously: within the stipulated ten minutes they were waiting upon a float at the side of the town-wharf, while the promised rowboat of Mr. Breed leisurely drew in to meet them.
Having embarked, the burden of Alan's solicitude grew lighter with every dip and splash of blades that, wielded by a crew of villainous countenance, brought them nearer a handsome motor boat which Mr. Breed designated as his own. It was not until Alan looked up to find Mr. Breed covering him with a revolver that he had the least apprehension of any danger near at hand.
