Hamilton and I quickly adjusted the stolen sweeps in the oar-locks, Betty
sat down on the stern thwart, guided the boat to the swift water of the
centre, and immediately we sped toward London Bridge at a fine rate.
Presently, as we had expected, we heard the rapid, regular stroke of the
sweeps in the king's barge, and in a few minutes it was so close behind
us that we could see the men at the sweeps. When they saw us, they fired
their pistols at us, but we did not hear the bullets splash in the water,
so we knew they did not have our range.
My greatest fear of the bullets was for Bettina's sake, she being in the
rear and more exposed to the enemy's fire than we who were at the sweeps,
but I could not leave my oar to take her place, nor could I have steered
the boat had I done so, being unfamiliar with the river. All I could do
was to hasten our stroke, which George and I did to our utmost, and soon
the welcome beacon over the centre arch of London Bridge came into view,
dimly at first, but brightening with every stroke of our sweeps. As we
approached the Bridge, De Grammont nervously called our attention to the
danger ahead of us.
"Yes, we'll take the middle arch, and I shall enjoy seeing the king's
barge follow us," I answered, with what breath I could spare.
"Take the middle arch, and the tide running as a river in flood?" cried
De Grammont, speaking French, being too excited to sort out English
words.
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