The
woman was on her now, and, also--The thought maddened him.
Again that piercing whistle! The naphtha was coming up fast; amid the
turmoil of his thoughts he realized this vaguely. He did not wish to
find himself delivered unto them yet--not just yet! A wilder
recklessness seized him. Clouds sped across the heavens like gripping
furies' hands; the water ran level to his boat's gunwales but he refused
to ease her. All the while he was drawing nearer the single green
light--a mocking light, signal of a mocking chase that had led, and
could lead, to nothing. Still he went on, tossed by the waves--sport of
them. He had to play the play out. Oh, to see better, to visualize to
the utmost the last scene of his poignant drama of failure!
In the naphtha some one's voice belched through a megaphone; he laughed
outright now. Come and get him, if they wanted him! He would give them
as merry a dash as possible. His boat raced madly through the
water--nearer, yet nearer the green light. Now a large dark outline
loomed before him; he would have to stop, to come about in a moment,
or--A great wave struck him, half filling his boat, but he did not seem
to notice.
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