Mr. Benjamin Sparks vented his incredulous anger in a volley of oaths.
“There goes five quid,” he cried savagely. “I’ve a mind to chuck you in after it, you blighted lunatic.”
Benjamin Sparks was a very powerfully-built young man, with red hair, and uncompromising manners. In anger he was known to be formidable. One and all awaited with a lively curiosity, not unmingled with trepidation, the treatment that would be meted out to the aggressor.
“You puny, half-begotten rat!” roared Benjamin Sparks. “I’ve a good mind to throw you into the sea.”
Yet the other occupants of the boat marvelled to observe that William Jordan did not yield a step to so much power and truculence. The young man stood bare-headed, with his white face uplifted. His hands and teeth were clenched. He was deadly pale, but not a trace of excitement was in his bearing.
“We will perish together,” he was heard to mutter.
Without waiting to be attacked, William Jordan uttered a cry like that of a wild animal, and flung himself headlong upon his adversary. As their clenched forms grappled to one another, and swayed from one side of the boat to the other, shouts of anguish and terror rose from their companions.
“They will have her over!” they cried wildly. “They will drown us all.”
In a moment they were stricken with panic. Helpless, yet half wild with terror, they clutched the sides of the frail boat. It was by a miracle that it regained an even keel. It was also due to a further dispensation of an inscrutable providence that both combatants did not find themselves in the water.
They put back to the shore with all speed. It was with true devoutness of spirit that they found themselves once again on dry land.