So it was then that just as one of the men in the prow of the boat was about to savagely stab the nerveless swimmer, whose glazing eye met his with more of defiance than menace therein, there was a rattling volley from half-a-dozen rifles, the two spearmen fell over the side, to be swept away by the stream, and their companions, on starting up and seeing one of the steamer’s cutters coming rapidly on, to a man leaped overboard and swam for their lives, some making for the island, some for the opposite shore.
Adam Gray was so exhausted and surprised that it was some time before he realised that the danger was past, but that, unless he made a fresh effort, a new peril would await him, and he would lose his life by drowning.
Just then, though, the Malay boat was swept close to him, and he threw one arm over the side, holding on till he was dragged into the cutter, which was then rowed rapidly back to the steamer.
“That was a narrow squeak for you, Mr Soldier,” said Bob Roberts. “My marines only spoke up just in time.”
“I cannot find words to thank you now, sir,” panted Gray, who was pale with exhaustion.
“All right!” said Bob; “and don’t find any words to thank me by-and-by. I’m glad we were in time. You’d have done as much for any of us, my man.”
“Of course, sir; of course,” said Gray, huskily.
“Yes, of course you would; but how came you in the river?”
“I was swimming off with a message to Lieutenant Johnson, sir,” replied Gray.
“Then if I were you I wouldn’t go such a long way round next time,” said Bob. “Steady there, marines. Let them see you cover them, and they’ll rush off behind the trees.”