For all we know, they
know more than we would wish them, of your being in our boat; and all we
can say, then, is, that we put you ashore; but they may keep a watch
upon us after that, and if they do, it will be only to give you up to
them that we could push off to you." "Yes--yes, I understand," said Todd. "I thank you, and will take my
chance of all that may happen." "You must." "There's something a-head," said the old man. "What is it?" "It's the pile-driving barge. They are mending up the bank of the river. I know that the men leave that all night, as there is nothing to take
from it that any one can lift. Will you go on board that, sir?" "Yes, yes," said Todd, "That will do." "Be quick, then, about it," said the old man, "for they gain upon us." "Boat a-hoi!" cried a voice over the river. CHAPTER CLXI. THE POLICE-GALLEY'S FATE. Todd, when he heard that voice, quite sank down into the bottom of the
boat, and felt as though his last hour were come. "Don't answer," said the old man. "Pull away for the pile-driving barge
as hard as you can." "Oh, yes, pull--pull!" cried Todd. "Save me!" "If you make that noise," added the old man, "we may as well be off at
once, for the river, when it is as smooth as it is now, carries voices
well." "Boat a-hoi!" cried the voice again. "We must answer them now," said the old waterman. "Ay, ay! Is it here? Boat a-hoi!" "Ay, ay!" came the voice from the police-galley. At that moment the two watermen succeeded in reaching the broad stern of
the barge, in which was centred the pile-driving machinery, and the
young man said to Todd--

"Now clamber in, and good luck attend you. If we don't come to you in
the course of an hour, don't expect us, that's all." Todd was not very young and supple in his joints, but the sense of
present and serious danger has an effect upon every one, and in a moment
he seized the side of the pile-driving barge, and drew himself in. "All right," said the old man. "Oh, yes--yes," said Todd, as he crouched down with his chin touching
the side of the barge. "Good-night, then." "Good-night! You will come for me if you can?" "Yes, but don't expect us. Pull, now, as hard as you can, and get out
into the stream. Pull! pull!" By the strenuous united exertions of the two men, the boat shot along at
good speed, and soon got to a considerable distance from the barge in
which Todd had taken refuge. It was then that the police-galley hoisted
a strong light that shed a bright glare through the rain, and over the
surface of the river. "Am I saved?" said Todd. "Am I saved, or am I not?" He sank quite down into the body of the barge. There was a sort of
platform over one-half of it, and upon that platform he felt the mass of
iron, weighing about a couple of hundredweight, or more, which was used
for driving piles into the bed of the river, and which, when liberated
from a height, and allowed to fall upon the end of the pile, comes with
a most tremendous force. That piece of metal so used is called "the monkey." "They come--they come!" said Todd. "Oh, if they only chanced to see the
boat place me here, I am lost. Quite lost! What will become of me, then,
with nothing but the cold, cold river all round me? Death, indeed, now
stares me in the face!" Truly, the situation of Todd now was rather a critical one. There was no
saying how far the men on board the police-galley might not think
themselves justified in boarding any craft that was moored upon the
river; and, indeed, if they were searching for him, and had really any
idea that he was trying an escape by the Thames, it was highly
improbable that they would omit to have a good look in the barge where
he was. There was another great danger, too, that suddenly flashed
across his mind, and drove him nearly mad. "If the police, when they overtake the wherry," he thought, "should
mention who it is they are in pursuit of, may not the two watermen at
once, upon finding that their sympathy has been excited for me, declare
where I am, and even aid in my apprehension?" This idea, either because it was the last one that came into his head,
or because it really was the one that seemed most full of real dangers,
clung to him with desperation; and more than once the thought of ending
all his miseries by a plunge into the river, crossed his mind. But it is
not such men as Sweeney Todd who commit suicide. "They come--they come!" was all he could now say. The light from the police was, by the aid of a revolving reflector,
capable of being cast pretty strongly in any direction that those who
had the care and control of it chose; and for a moment it rested upon
the barge where Todd was. He felt as if, at that moment, he could have
crept right through the bottom of the barge, and taken refuge in the
Thames. The broad beam of light was then shifted off the barge on to the little
wherry, which was at rest upon the water waiting for the approach of the
police-galley. And now, with vigorous sweeps of its six oars, that galley made its way
right past the barge. Oh! what a relief it was that it went past! It did
not follow that all danger was gone because the police-barge had gone
past; but it was a sufficient proof that the glare of light they had
sent in that direction, by the aid of the reflector, had not had the
effect of discovering him to them. "That is something," muttered Todd. He then slowly permitted his eyes to peer over the side of the barge in
order, as far as he could, to watch the interview that was about to take
place between the police and the two watermen in the wherry where he had
been so lately a passenger. Upon that interview, now, he thought that
his fate depended. "Hilloa!" cried one of the police. "Why did you not wait for us when we
first called to you?" "We did," said the old man, "as soon as we saw your light, and knew what
you were; but there are so many jokes played off upon the river, that if
we were to rest-oars to everybody who call--'Boat a-hoi,' we should have
enough to do." "Who are you?" "A couple of regestered watermen. Here we are. You can overhaul us at
once, if you like." "You have no passenger?" "No. I only wish we had. Times are very bad." "Well, it's all right. But we are placed here by the orders of Sir
Richard Blunt the magistrate, who suspects that the notorious murderer,
Sweeney Todd, may try to escape by the Thames." "Sweeney Todd!" cried the young waterman in a tone of horror. "What, the
fellow that killed all the people in Fleet Street, and made them into
pies?" "The same." "It's coming now," thought Todd. "It's coming now. They will tell him
where I am." The next words that were spoken, were uttered in a tone of voice that
did not reach his ears. It was the old man who had spoken, and he did
not utter his words so clearly as his younger companion; and although he
tried his utmost to hear what he said, he could not possibly make it
out, and he remained in a perfect agony of apprehension.