The grip of the Celestial was like that of steel and could not be broken.
Oscar kicked at him and turned and twisted, but all in vain.
Then there came a darkness over the eyes of the young captain and a strange rumble in his ears.
He felt himself going down and down, the water each instant getting colder and more lonely.
"It must be the end of all!" he thought. "Heaven alone can help me!"
He thought of the Holland XI., of his friends, of the many victories he had gained—and of what he had hoped to do for the President's daughter.
Was this to be the end of all—this, a grave at the bottom of the mighty Pacific?
Again he struggled, and this time he thought the grip on his throat was somewhat relaxed.
But only for a moment, then it became even tighter than before.
The darkness increased and he believed himself dead and dreaming.