Harry, knowing that when Roger spoke thus it was useless to argue, did as he was ordered, and struck out for the vessel with such energy as he could muster.
For his part, Roger drew his dagger, and held it firmly in his hand; and then, swimming after Harry, began to splash and shout with all his might.
The fins, which had by this time come very close to them, paused suddenly and scattered at the unexpected commotion; and a little time was thus gained for the fugitives, who made the utmost of it.
The sharks, however, were not so easily to be denied, and presently they began to close in again; by which time Harry was approaching the side of the Stag Royal, while Roger was still some distance behind, splashing and shouting vigorously.
The fins drew nearer and nearer with deadly determination.
Abandoning now the splashing, which was greatly exhausting him, Roger put out all his remaining strength and swam for his life, while, the splashing having ceased, the sharks were after him again at once.
It was now a race, not between two boys for a wager of a noble, but between a boy and a school of sharks, with the boy’s life as the stake.
The sharks were fast gaining upon Roger, and he and they were as yet quite out of range of the missiles with which the men were ready to pelt the ravenous monsters. But Harry had meanwhile reached the ship and been hauled in and deposited on deck, where he immediately sank down fainting with exhaustion.
Then, seeing his friend safe, Roger redoubled his efforts, and the distance between the sharks and him lessened but slightly, while he decreased the distance between himself and the ship very perceptibly.
These herculean efforts could not last long, however, and the sharks once more began to draw in upon him.