everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day.  A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look.  As they approached London Bridge, the thief-taker whispered Van Galgebrok, who acted as steersman, to make for a particular arch—­near the Surrey shore.  The skipper obeyed, and in another moment, they swept through the narrow lock.  While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard’s frame.

“You remember that starling, Sir Rowland,” he said maliciously, “and what occurred on it, twelve years ago?”

“Too well,” answered the knight, frowning.  “Ah! what is that?” he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful resemblance to a human face.

“We’ll see,” returned the thief-taker.  And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood.

It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining.  Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance.

“It’s the skull of a rebel,” said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, “blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us.  I don’t know whose brainless head it may be, but it’ll do for my collection.”  And he tossed it carelessly into the bottom of the boat.

After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping.  Arrived at her side, it was soon evident, from the throng of seamen in Dutch dresses that displayed themselves, that her crew were on the alert, and a rope having been thrown down to the skipper, he speedily hoisted himself on deck.  Preparations were next made for taking Thames on board.  Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty.

While he was swinging in mid air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, “We shall meet again.”

“Not in this world,” returned Jonathan.  “Weigh anchor, Van!” he shouted to the skipper, “and consult your despatches.”

“Ja—­ja,” returned the Hollander.  And catching hold of Thames, he quitted the deck.

Shortly afterwards, he re-appeared with the information that the captive was safe below; and giving the necessary directions to his crew, before many minutes had elapsed, the Zeeslang spread her canvass to the first breeze of morning.

By the thief-taker’s command, the boat was then rowed toward a muddy inlet, which has received in more recent times the name of Execution Dock.  As soon as she reached this spot, Wild sprang ashore, and was joined by several persons,—­among whom was Quilt Arnold, leading a horse by the bridle,—­he hastened down the stairs to meet him.  A coach was also in attendance, at a little distance.