In the King's Name: The Cruise of the "Kestrel"

by George Manville Fenn

Hilary saw how it was in a moment. The poor girl had apparently been tempted into trying to get at some of the yellow lilies and silvery water crowfoot which were growing abundantly in the centre of the wide moat, and to effect this she had entered a clumsy old boat that was evidently utilised for clearing out the weeds and growth from the stagnant water. That it was a boat was sufficient for her, and she had pushed out into the middle, not heeding that the craft was so rotten and fragile that just as she was out in one of the deepest parts it began to fill rapidly, and sank beneath her weight, leaving her struggling in the water.

Hilary had some distance to swim, for here, in the front of the house, the moat was double the width of the part by his prison window, and to his horror he saw the beating hands subside beneath the water while he was many yards away. But he was a good swimmer, and redoubling his exertions he forced his way onward, as he saw Sir Henry, Allstone, and three more men come running out to the moat; but only one of them, Sir Henry himself, attempted to save the drowning girl’s life.

Long before Sir Henry could reach Adela, Hilary was at the spot where he had seen her go down, and, rising for a moment and making a dive, he went down, rose, dived again, and once again before he caught hold of the poor girl’s dress, and then swam with her for the shore.

The moat was deep right up to the grassy edge; and Hilary was in the act of placing Adela in the hands held down to catch her when a fresh cry for help assailed his ears, and, turning, it was to see that Sir Henry was a dozen yards away, swimming apparently, but making no progress.

Hilary suspected the cause as he turned and swam to his old friend’s help. For Sir Henry was heavily dressed, and, in addition, booted and spurred. The consequence had been that his heavy boots, with their appendages, were entangled in the long tough stems of the lilies, and his position was perilous in the extreme.

For a moment Hilary wondered how he could help his old friend, and as he wondered the thought came.

Swimming with one hand, he drew the cutlass from his belt, and telling Sir Henry to be cool, he swam up to him, thrust the cutlass down beneath the water, and after two or three attempts succeeded in dividing the tough stalks, ending by helping the nearly exhausted swimmer towards the shore.

The men on the shore, and that little figure kneeling by them with clasped hands, seemed to be growing dim and indistinct, close as they were, and as if they were receding. His arms felt like lead, and he could hardly make his strokes, while somehow Sir Henry now embarrassed him by being so close that he could not take hold, as it were, of the water. But still he strove on, with the foam bubbling at his lips, then over his lips, then to his dim eyes; and then he felt something strike against his hand, and he clutched at a pole held out by Allstone, when Sir Henry and he were dragged out, to lie panting for the next minute or two upon the bank.

“You’re not dead, are you, Sir Henry?” said Allstone gruffly; and Hilary could not help, even then, feeling annoyed as he raised himself upon one elbow, but only to give place to other thoughts as he saw Adela kneeling there in speechless agony, holding her father’s head in her lap.

Poor girl! She was white as ashes, and her beautiful hair hung long and dishevelled about her shoulders; but just then she seemed to have no thought of self, her whole feeling being concentrated upon the pale, motionless face before her, from which the life seemed to have passed away.