THE SIGN OF FOUR by Arthur Conan Doyle

CHAPTER 10 THE END OF THE ISLANDER

We were fairly after her now. The furnaces roared, and the powerful engines whizzed and clanked like a great metallic heart. Her sharp, steep prow cut through the still river-water and sent two rolling waves to right and to left of us. With every throb of the engines we sprang and quivered like a living thing. One great yellow lantern in our bows threw a long, flickering funnel of light in front of us. Right ahead a dark blur upon the water showed where the Aurora lay, and the swirl of white foam behind her spoke of the pace at which she was going. We flashed [] past barges, steamers, merchant-vessels, in and out, behind this one and round the other. Voices hailed us out of the darkness, but still the Aurora thundered on, and still we followed close upon her track.
"Pile it on, men, pile it on!" cried Holmes, looking down into the engine-room, while the fierce glow from below beat upon his eager, aquiline face. "Get every pound of steam you can."
"I think we gain a little," said Jones with his eyes on the Aurora.
"I am sure of it," said I. "We shall be up with her in a very few minutes."
At that moment, however, as our evil fate would have it, a tug with three barges in tow blundered in between us. It was only by putting our helm hard down that we avoided a collision, and before we could round them and recover our way the Aurora had gained a good two hundred yards. She was still, however, well in view, and the murky, uncertain twilight was settling into a clear, starlit night. Our boilers were strained to their utmost, and the frail shell vibrated and creaked with the fierce energy which was driving us along. We had shot through the pool, past the West India Docks, down the long Deptford Reach, and up again after rounding the Isle of Dogs. The dull blur in front of us resolved itself now clearly into the dainty Aurora. Jones turned our searchlight upon her, so that we could plainly see the figures upon her deck. One man sat by the stern, with something black between his knees, over which he stooped. Beside him lay a dark mass, which looked like a Newfoundland dog. The boy held the tiller, while against the red glare of the furnace I could see old Smith, stripped to the waist, and shovelling coals for dear life. They may have had some doubt at first as to whether we were really pursuing them, but now as we followed every winding and turning which they took there could no longer be any question about it. At Greenwich we were about three hundred paces behind them. At Blackwall we could not have been more than two hundred and fifty. I have coursed many creatures in many countries during my checkered career, but never did sport give me such a wild thrill as this mad, flying man-hunt down the Thames. Steadily we drew in upon them, yard by yard. In the silence of the night we could hear the panting and clanking of their machinery. The man in the stern still crouched upon the deck, and his arms were moving as though he were busy, while every now and then he would look up and measure with a glance the distance which still separated us. Nearer we came and nearer. Jones yelled to them to stop. We were not more than four boat's-lengths behind them, both boats flying at a tremendous pace. It was a clear reach of the river, with Barking Level upon one side and the melancholy Plumstead Marshes upon the other. At our hail the man in the stern sprang up from the deck and shook his two clenched fists at us, cursing the while in a high, cracked voice. He was a good-sized, powerful man, and as he stood poising himself with legs astride I could see that from the thigh downward there was but a wooden stump upon the right side. At the sound of his strident, angry cries, there was movement in the huddled bundle upon the deck. It straightened itself into a little black man–the smallest I have ever seen–with a great, misshapen head and a shock of tangled, dishevelled hair. Holmes had already drawn his revolver, and I whipped out mine at the sight of this savage, distorted creature. He was wrapped in some sort of dark ulster or blanket, which left only his face exposed, but that face was enough to give a man a sleepless night. Never have I seen features so deeply marked with all bestiality and cruelty. His small eyes glowed and burned with a sombre light, and his thick lips were writhed back from his teeth, which grinned and chattered at us with half animal fury.
[139] "Fire if he raises his hand," said Holmes quietly.
We were within a boat's-length by this time, and almost within touch of our quarry. I can see the two of them now as they stood, the white man with his legs far apart, shrieking out curses, and the unhallowed dwarf with his hideous face, and his strong yellow teeth gnashing at us in the light of our lantern.

It waswell that we had so clear a view of him. Even as we looked he plucked out fromunder his covering a short, round piece of wood, like a school-ruler, andclapped it to his lips. Our pistols rang out together. He whirled round, threwup his arms, and, with a kind of choking cough, fell sideways into the stream.I caught one glimpse of his venomous, menacing eyes amid the white swirl of thewaters. At the same moment the wooden-legged man threw himself upon the rudderand put it hard down, so that his boat made straight in for the southern bank,while we shot past her stern, only clearing her by a few feet. We were roundafter her in an instant, but she was already nearly at the bank. It was a wildand desolate place, where the moon glimmered upon a wide expanse of marsh-land,with pools of stagnant water and beds of decaying vegetation. The launch, witha dull thud, ran up upon the mud-bank, with her bow in the air and her sternflush with the water. The fugitive sprang out, but his stump instantly sank itswhole length into the sodden soil. In vain he struggled and writhed. Not onestep could he possibly take either forward or backward. He yelled in impotentrage and kicked frantically into the mud with his other foot, but his strugglesonly bored his wooden pin the deeper into the sticky bank. When we brought ourlaunch alongside he was so firmly anchored that it was only by throwing the endof a rope over his shoulders that we were able to haul him out and to drag him,like some evil fish, over our side. The two Smiths, father and son, satsullenly in their launch but came aboard meekly enough when commanded. The Auroraherself we hauled off and made fast to our stern. A solid iron chest of Indianworkmanship stood upon the deck. This, there could be no question, was the samethat had contained the ill-omened treasure of the Sholtos. There was no key,but it was of considerable weight, so we transferred it carefully to our ownlittle cabin. As we steamed slowly upstream again, we flashed our searchlightin every direction, but there was no sign of the Islander. Somewhere in thedark ooze at the bottom of the Thames lie the bones of that strange visitor toour shores.

"See here," said Holmes, pointing to the wooden hatchway. "We were hardly quick enough with our pistols." There, sure enough, just behind where we had been standing, stuck one of those murderous darts which we knew so well. It must have whizzed between us at the instant we fired. Holmes smiled at it and shrugged his shoulders in his easy fashion, but I confess that it turned me sick to think of the horrible death which had passed so close to us that night.