At that moment， however， as our evil fate would have it， a tugwith three barges in tow blundered in between us. It was onlyby putting our helm hard down that we avoided a collision， andbefore we could round them and recover our way the Aurorahad gained a good two hundred yards. She was still， however，well in view， and the murky uncertain twilight was setting intoa clear， starlit night. Our boilers were strained to their utmost，and the frail shell vibrated and creaked with the fierce energywhich was driving us along. We had shot through the Pool， pastthe West India Docks， down the long Deptford Reach， and upagain after rounding the Isle of Dogs. The dull blur in front of usresolved itself now clearly into the dainty Aurora. Jones turned oursearchlight upon her， so that we could plainly see the figures uponher deck. One man sat by the stern， with something black betweenhis 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. Theymay have had some doubt at first as to whether we were reallypursuing them， but now as we followed every winding and turningwhich 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 andfifty. I have coursed many creatures in many countries during mycheckered career， but never did sport give me such a wild thrill asthis mad， flying man-hunt down the Thames. Steadily we drew inupon them， yard by yard. In the silence of the night we could hearthe panting and clanking of their machinery. The man in the sternstill crouched upon the deck， and his arms were moving as thoughhe were busy， while every now and then he would look up andmeasure with a glance the distance which still separated us. Nearerwe came and nearer. Jones yelled to them to stop. We were notmore than four boat’s lengths behind them， both boats flying ata tremendous pace. It was a clear reach of the river， with BarkingLevel upon one side and the melancholy Plumstead Marshes uponthe other. At our hail the man in the stern sprang up from thedeck and shook his two clinched fists at us， cursing the while in ahigh， cracked voice. He was a good-sized， powerful man， and as hestood poising himself with legs astride I could see that from thethigh downwards there was but a wooden stump upon the rightside. At the sound of his strident， angry cries， there was movementin the huddled bundle upon the deck. It straightened itself intoa little black man—the smallest I have ever seen—with a great，misshapen head and a shock of tangled， dishevelled hair. Holmeshad already drawn his revolver， and I whipped out mine at thesight of this savage， distorted creature. He was wrapped in somesort of dark ulster or blanket， which left only his face exposed， butthat face was enough to give a man a sleepless night. Never haveI seen features so deeply marked with all bestiality and cruelty.
His small eyes glowed and burned with a sombre light， and histhick lips were writhed back from his teeth， which grinned andchattered at us with a half animal fury.
“Fire if he raises his hand，” said Holmes quietly.
We were within a boat’s-length by this time， and almost withintouch 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， andthe unhallowed dwarf with his hideous face， and his strong yellowteeth gnashing at us in the light of our lantern.
It was well that we had so clear a view of him. Even as we lookedhe plucked out from under his covering a short， round piece ofwood， like a school-ruler， and clapped it to his lips. Our pistolsrang out together. He whirled round， threw up his arms， and， witha kind of choking cough， fell sideways into the stream. I caughtone glimpse of his venomous， menacing eyes amid the white swirlof the waters. At the same moment the wooden-legged man threwhimself upon the rudder and put it hard down， so that his boatmade straight in for the southern bank， while we shot past herstern， only clearing her by a few feet. We were round after her inan instant， but she was already nearly at the bank. It was a wild anddesolate place， where the moon glimmered upon a wide expanseof marsh-land， with pools of stagnant water and beds of decayingvegetation. The launch， with a dull thud， ran up upon the mudbank，with her bow in the air and her stern flush with the water.
The fugitive sprang out， but his stump instantly sank its wholelength into the sodden soil. In vain he struggled and writhed. Notone step could he possibly take either forwards or backwards.
He yelled in impotent rage and kicked frantically into the mudwith his other foot， but his struggles only bored his wooden pinthe deeper into the sticky bank. When we brought our launchalongside he was so firmly anchored that it was only by throwingthe end of a rope over his shoulders that we were able to haulhim out and to drag him， like some evil fish， over our side. Thetwo Smiths， father and son， sat sullenly in their launch but cameaboard meekly enough when commanded. The Aurora herselfwe hauled off and made fast to our stern. A solid iron chest ofIndian workmanship stood upon the deck. This， there could be noquestion， was the same that had contained the ill-omened treasureof the Sholtos. There was no key， but it was of considerableweight， so we transferred it carefully to our own little cabin. As westeamed slowly upstream again， we flashed our searchlight in everydirection， but there was no sign of the Islander. Somewhere inthe dark ooze at the bottom of the Thames lie the bones of thatstrange visitor to our shores.