"No, we are all right, George."
A moment later a man came up beside the Major, and put his hand heavily on his shoulder.
"You won last time, Mallett," he hissed in his ear. "It is my turn now."
The man's weight was pressing him under water, and the boat gave a lurch.
Frank loosed his hold of Bertha with the words, "Hold on, dear, for a minute," and, turning, grappled with his enemy, at the same moment grasping his right wrist as the arm was raised to strike him with a knife.
In a moment both went below the water. They came up beyond the stern, and Frank said:
"Take care of Bertha, George—Carthew—" and then went down again.
Furiously they struggled. They were well matched in strength, but Frank felt that his antagonist was careless of his own life, for he had wound his legs round him, and, unable to wrench his arm from his grasp, was doing his utmost to prevent their coming to the surface.
Suddenly, when he felt that he could no longer retain his breath, he felt arms thrown round them both, and a moment later came to the surface. Then he heard an exclamation of "Thank God!" An arm was raised, and two blows struck rapidly.
Carthew's grasp relaxed, the knife dropped from his hand, and, as Frank shook himself free, he sank under the water.