A horny hand gripped him by the arm. He felt himself being drawn to the surface. As his head appeared, he swung round and dealt the seaman a powerful blow with his fist. The man, taken completely by surprise, relaxed his grip. Von Hauptwald's blow had almost broken his shoulder.
"Be careful, Ginger!" he shouted to his mate. "He's fair balmy. Mind he don't plug you."
The second seaman swam in a circle just beyond reach of the spy's arm. His attempt to get behind the German failed, for the simple reason that von Hauptwald gave no opportunity for an attack in the rear. The other sailor, floating on his back and rubbing his injured arm, was content to shout advice and await developments.
The red-haired man was not deficient in courage, but he did not at all relish the idea of tackling single-handed a powerfully built maniac—for such he took the spy to be. He wisely awaited the approach of the Oxford's sea-boat, which, manned by four rowers who were encouraged by Midshipman Setley, was being urged rapidly towards the scene.
"Way enough!" shouted the middy.
The bowman boated his oar and leant over the bows. As he did so von Hauptwald avoided his grip, and, seizing the boat's keel, brought his head in violent contact with the elm planking.
Then it was that Ginger saw his chance and took it. Grabbing the German by the legs, he hung on like grim death, shouting to his comrades to "tackle the lubber".
Within an ace of capsizing the boat, von Hauptwald was hauled on board. He fought desperately. For a moment it seemed as if he would more than hold his own against the four seamen, until one of them, seizing a stretcher, dealt the spy a crack on the head that laid him senseless across the thwarts.
"Couldn't help it, sir," exclaimed the man apologetically.
"You did perfectly right, Dickenson," said the midshipman. "He's properly mad. Come on, you men, are you going to bathe for the rest of the day?"