The splashes of the approaching horsemen seemed very close; one especially was urging his horse to its utmost speed.
"'Tis Bowerman," said Magdalen despairingly.
But their boat was really moving now. Hand-over-hand the warp kept coming in. The breeze off the shore came fresh and strong.
"Jump in, Ralph," cried Sir George.
With a last push and a violent leap, Ralph clambered over the stern, and fell in a heap into the bottom of the boat.
"Thank the saints we are off," said the knight, as he pulled in the rude anchor over the bows of the old boat, which was now rippling through the water.
Ralph had picked himself up, and was looking astern at the splashing figures of two or three men-at-arms who were still pressing on through the shallow water.
"Aha, my friends, you'll have work enough to scour your harness after this, but you won't--Marry, what's the matter!" he broke off in alarm, as the sail came tumbling down on their heads.
"'Tis a quarrel hath cut the halyards," said Sir George in a smothered voice, as he tried to disengage himself from the thick sail.
A loud shout of triumph from their pursuers told how near the enemy were, and of their certainty of success.