“So let all be sarved as turns upon their friends in the time of need!” he bellowed. “Come on—come on, the pack of ’e!”
It might have been observed that at this sensational moment the overseer, Jabez Ford, made no instant effort to come to Henry Vivian’s rescue. He was as big as Daniel, and apparently as powerful; but while his black eyes blazed and he shouted wildly to the negroes to secure Sweetland, himself he took no risk. He saw the struggling men get nearer and nearer to the edge of the wharf; but he only bawled to the terrified coloured men to separate the fighters.
At last a big buck negroe tried to grasp Daniel from behind, and the sailor, bending his head, drove with full force at the black’s chest, and fairly butted him head foremost into the sea. A moment later Vivian was in the water also, while Ford cried to the negroes to leap in and frighten the sharks. The overseer fumbled with a lifebelt the while; but long before he had cut it from its fastenings Henry Vivian swam with strong strokes to the landing stage and climbed upon it.
No anger marked his demeanour, despite this sharp reverse. He brushed the water from his face and looked for Sweetland, only to find Daniel had vanished.
“Thank Heaven—thank Heaven!” said Ford, warmly. “My heart was in my mouth. The water under this stage harbours a dozen sharks.”
“Where’s that man?”
“He’s safe enough. He can’t escape in the long run. He knocked down two policemen, and then the harbour-master, who tried to stop him. After that he bolted to the left there, and has got into the woods. It may be a long job, but he must be caught sooner or late.”
“He’s a runaway from justice—a poacher and a murderer. By an amazing chance we have met here. We were boys together. Everything must be done that can be done to arrest him.”
“Come to my house and get a change of clothes,” answered Jabez Ford. “Thank God, the wretch was not a murderer twice over. You’ve had a merciful and marvellous escape, Mr Vivian.”