Once more the scale turned in the Ulsterman's favour, for, having only one oar remaining and the boat being unprovided with a sculling-notch, the officer and his companion could not hope to overtake the fugitive.
[Illustration: As Dymock rose to the surface the Frenchman snapped his pistol, and the boatman aimed a vicious blow at his head with an oar.]
By this time the noise had alarmed the troops on shore, and, seeing a boat with a lantern partially concealed by its sides, they concluded that 'twas an English craft attempting to gain the city. Immediately a heavy fire was opened upon the luckless Frenchman, while Dymock, swimming desperately, was already beyond the zone of the falling missiles.
Without further adventure the swimmer gained the city quay, where the gallant Governor Baker, to whom sleep seemed a stranger, was at the head of his men, who, hearing the firing, had stood to their arms.
"We can give you but a sorry welcome, young sir, yet none the less hearty," quoth Baker. "But what says Colonel Kirke?"
"'Tis from Captain Leake that I am come," replied Dymock, producing the letter, which in spite of its oiled wrapper resembled a limp rag.
"Read it! Read it!" shouted the crowd of famished yet undaunted citizens.
"The King's ships are in the Foyle, and Captain Leake promises that an attempt will be made to break the boom at the first possible moment," announced the Governor.