“No, no,” I shouted. “Help!”
“Hold still, will you?” cried one of the men. “Now then, out with him!”
In spite of my struggles they forced me onward, holding on to my wrists the while; and speechless now in my horror, I felt that the next moment I should be plunged into the black water to drown.
Those were terrible moments, but they only were those brief spaces of time, for just as I felt that all was over, the man who had just spoken shouted—“Below there! Now then, together, mate,” and they stooped as low as they could, lowering me down, and then snatched their hands away, and I fell what seemed to be a terrific distance, though it was only a few feet, before I was caught by strong arms and lowered into a boat.
“There you are, sir. Go aft.”
I staggered in the direction in which I was pushed, and dropped on to a thwart, still half-stunned and confused, but sensible enough to understand the words uttered about me, and to see the dull yellow light of the lanterns held by the gangway lighting up a number of drink-flushed faces.
“I don’t want chucking down, I tell you,” growled Bob Hampton. “Give’s a hold of a rope and I’ll drop down.”
“Yes, you pig,” snarled Jarette, for I knew it was he now who gave orders, and now came full into sight, with the lights showing: his evil-looking face. “It’s rope you want, is it? Hah, for two sous I’d have one round your neck and run you up to the yard-arm. Treacherous lying dog.”
Bob Hampton was a big heavy man, but as quickly and actively as a boy he swung himself clear of the men who held him, and lowered himself down.
“Stand clear,” he shouted, and the next moment he had dropped down into the boat.