Not a breath of wind stirred the surface. The only movement was the occasional wash of a boat going up or downstream, all but silently. The voices of lightermen calling to one another echoed, and the splash of an oar could be heard. Now and then a water bird dived for a fish. It broke the smooth surface almost without sound, and then came up victorious. It was an hour short of high tide. Soon the river would brim its banks. An hour after that it would turn. They rowed randan, that is, holding only one oar each, on two separate seats, one slightly in front of the other. It was swift, maneuverable, and when rowers were well matched they could keep up the pace for hours. Hooper was a good partner and now that his injuries from the battle on the gun smugglers’ ship were almost healed, he was extremely strong. It was a challenge to keep up with him, but one that Monk enjoyed. They were returning from the successful solution to a robbery. “Hear any more about the drowned man?” Hooper asked curiously.
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