Scarcely recovered from the first shock, the second hurled Jack headlong. He felt the sampan turn turtle under him, and in another second he was shot into the dark, fierce current, and felt the waters close over his head.
CHAPTER IX.
A CLOSE CALL.
Jack did not rise at once. As he sank, the words of Buck flashed into his mind, and he dived and swam swiftly down stream. When he could stay under no longer, he came very slowly to the surface and put out his face. He drew a deep breath and looked eagerly about for the enemy, dreading to see a heavy oar poised against the sky to beat a swimmer under. But there was nothing close at hand, and he trod water and raised his head very carefully to look round.
Suddenly the splash of an oar falling upon the water came to his ears. He looked behind him and saw the dark mass of the skiff thirty yards away. One of the oarsmen was standing up and striking at some object in the water. A pang went through Jack's heart as he realised that one of his companions must be there, struggling for his life, and being brutally beaten under. Then he saw the frightful danger in which he stood himself. At any moment the skiff might shoot towards him. He turned and was about to strike away when a dark object appeared within a few yards of him down stream.
It looked like a head, and Jack struck out for it. He swam in silence, and within half a dozen strokes had a man by the hair. He turned the face up to the starlight and saw that it was Jim Dent, and that the gunsmith appeared to be unconscious. Taking a firmer grip of Jim's hair, Jack struck out down stream and swam as fast as he could towards the approaching light, which was now much bigger and brighter. He had turned on his side to swim, and looked back now and again as he rose to his stroke. To his horror he saw the long, dark line which marked the skiff begin to move swiftly after him. It was difficult to swim in silence and support Jim. His splashes had marked them out to the murderers, and they were hastening to beat him and his helpless companion under before help could arrive.
Jack marked the approaching light and lashed out more fiercely than ever. Unencumbered by Jim Dent, he would have had ten times as good a chance of escaping from the human tigers who pursued him, but of abandoning Jim, the gallant lad had never thought for a moment. Like a snake darting over the water, the skiff was upon them, and a figure in the bow raised an oar to strike at Jack's head. Lifting himself high out of the water with a tremendous stroke, Jack yelled, "Help! help!" at the top of his voice. The oar fell, but the man had been flurried by that sudden wild cry at his feet, and it missed its mark. Again he raised it and struck. Jack had turned on his back, and as the oar fell, he raised his hand, met the stroke, turned it aside, gripped the blade, and hung on desperately. The figure gave a muttered cry and strove to draw the oar back.
But now a warning murmur arose among his companions. The light was coming on at great speed. Jack's cry had been heard, and the vessel was rushing swiftly up to the place. The men in the skiff knew well now what vessel it was, and their only thought was of instant flight. The oar was abandoned, the skiff was turned round, and away it darted into the gloom which overhung the mid-stream. A moment later, a police launch, with its brightly-burning lamp, and two Sikh policemen aboard, shot up to the spot where Jack clung to the oar and to his comrade.