“Put your arm around my neck,” he commanded again.
This time Lord Hastings obeyed. Jack lifted him up as though he had been a child, and turning, dashed for the spot off which he knew the submarine lay.
He had almost reached it, when he found himself suddenly confronted by two dark figures. Without a word he laid Lord Hastings gently upon the ground and hurled himself upon the men before him.
With two smashing blows—a left and a right—he laid two of them low before they could recover from their surprise, and as a third man, with a cry of rage, dashed upon him with upraised arm, Jack caught him by the wrist.
He gave a violent twist, there was a snap and a sharp cry of pain, and a knife fell to the ground. Jack planted his other fist squarely in the man’s face, and even as the latter tumbled to the ground, the lad stooped over Lord Hastings and in another moment was running along the bank with him.
“You can’t do it, Jack,” gasped Lord Hastings, as the lad ran on.
“Keep still,” ordered Jack. “I’ll get you back aboard or break a leg.”
Lord Hastings subsided.
Now Jack reached the point where the submarine lay only a few yards off shore.
“Drop into the water,” he commanded Lord Hastings.