CHAPTER VIII.
NICK WINS A POINT.
“This is a tangle all around,” he said to himself. “Who the deuce is this fellow, getting ready to lay out our friend Miguel? Can it be——”
He did not finish the sentence. At that instant some unexplainable impulse made Miguel swing around in his chair.
He saw the tall figure standing there, and, without hesitation, he picked up the deck chair on which he had been sitting and flung it full at the head of the other man.
Nick Carter saw the man put up his hands to protect his head. Then the chair smashed into him and he reeled backward across the cabin roof, holding the chair in front of him.
In the darkness, Nick was unable to see whether the chair had struck him in the face or not. Certain it was that it had taken him off his balance, and that he seemed to have been weakened in some way.
He staggered backward across the roof and fell hard against the low railing. For an instant he tried to save himself.
But he had nothing to clutch at, and could only go. Turning almost a complete somersault, he went off the roof and down into the water with a loud splash.
“A good thing he didn’t strike the deck on his head. That would have settled him. Even in the water he may not be altogether safe.”
This last thought made Nick let himself down quickly from the block and sent him scurrying to the stern of the yacht, where he could get to his skiff.