These solitary men were often tipplers. But no!--this was not a
drinking man's face; nor could he detect the weakness of alarm, or even
the weakness of surprise, on these features, in those steady eyes.
"We were too far gone to climb out," Ricardo went on. "I heard you
walking along though. I thought I shouted; I tried to. You didn't hear
me shout?"
Heyst made an almost imperceptible negative sign, which the greedy eyes
of Ricardo--greedy for all signs--did not miss.
"Throat too parched. We didn't even care to whisper to each other
lately. Thirst chokes one. We might have died there under this wharf
before you found us."
"I couldn't think where you had gone to." Heyst was heard at last,
addressing directly the newcomers from the sea. "You were seen as soon
as you cleared that point."
"We were seen, eh?" grunted Mr. Ricardo. "We pulled like
machines--daren't stop. The governor sat at the tiller, but he couldn't
speak to us. She drove in between the piles till she hit something, and
we all tumbled off the thwarts as if we had been drunk. Drunk--ha, ha!
Too dry, by George! We fetched in here with the very last of our
strength, and no mistake. Another mile would have done for us. When I
heard your footsteps, above, I tried to get up, and I fell down."
"That was the first sound I heard," said Heyst.
Mr Jones, the front of his soiled white tunic soaked and plastered
against his breast-bone, staggered away from the water-pipe.
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