So on I went on the rapid ebb for dear life.

And casting my eyes upward, I noticed that the air was still and windless; so that wherever she was, the _Misericorde_ could be getting little help from her canvas.
And if she were only drifting on the tide, why should not I with my oars make as good or better pace than she?
Yet I confess I was sorely vexed to think that they had gone without me; and when I remembered further that I had the lady's purse with me, I could have thrown myself, in despair, over my boat's side.

What would they think and say of me! I could see the waterman's boat behind me come through the Bridge, and guessed well enough that some other craft near it were joining in the pursuit.

So I pulled desperately, and made my boat fly down the stream.
Yet ever as I turned and looked ahead there was no sign of the _Misericorde_.

Worse still, a flutter of breeze on my brow showed that the wind was already coming, and then, I knew I might row my arms off, and never catch her.