"Yes, I'm Payne. Are you the captain?"
"I'm boss of the ditching outfit, Mr. Payne. White's my name. Was you
planning we should lay up at Gumbo Key to-night?"
Roger looked across the bay at the last glimpse of the Egret's white
hull as she sped into the mouth of the river. The setting sun glinted
on paint and nickel and brasswork. It was fancy, perhaps, but he
seemed to make out the figure of Annette still leaning over the
starboard rail.
"Yes--I was," he said slowly. The Egret shifted her course slightly,
and like the snuffing of a light disappeared round the first bend in
the river.
"Well, I dunno," said White. "So far's I'm concerned the quicker I get
my outfit up the river the better I'll like it."
"Do you know the river well?"
"Reckon I do."
"Can you run it by night?"
"Shore can--especially as it's going to be broad moonlight."
"All right," said Roger. "Let's go."
All through the night, without halting save for occasional engine
trouble, the little gasoline tug dragged its unwieldly tow up the
tree-lined reaches of the Chokohatchee River. The moonlight illumined
the waterway as with a million softly shaded lights. The Spanish moss
which hung from the live oak and cypress along the bank was transmuted
into scintillating draperies of twinkling silver.
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