At the first collision, they went down together. Here was Nick Carter’s chance. The detective had often practiced holding his breath for long periods, so the ducking was not so trying to him as it was to Marcos.
For this reason Nick deliberately stayed below the surface as long as he could, with the object of taking all the life out of the other man. It would be possible to handle him if he were unconscious.
But Marcos had good lungs, and though they were under the water long enough to have rendered many a person unconscious, they came up without any material change in the condition of either.
Marcos had recovered somewhat from the blow of the chair, which had been the main cause of his dazed condition. The water had revived him to some extent, but he hardly knew what he was doing.
He fought wildly with Nick, trying to hold to him, and down they went again.
This time, however, the detective contrived to loosen himself a little. Getting to the surface with a frantic effort, he delivered a jolt under the chin of Marcos that knocked him out entirely.
“I’m sorry for that,” muttered Nick. “But I had to do it. There was no other chance for either of us. Now, how am I to get him to shore?”
He got the senseless man across his shoulder, and struck out vigorously in the general direction of the launch and away from the yacht.
“Hello! They’ve lowered a boat from the yacht. They are not going to let their man drown, if they can help it, I suppose. Well, they don’t get him.”
A boat with three men in it had left the yacht, and Nick could just make out its dark outline as he looked toward the half-lighted sky in the vicinity of the dull moon.