The merchant was a good swimmer, and breasted the stream right manfully, but it was a question whether he would reach the bank ere the arrival of the second wave, which usually follows the first at a distance of about two hundred yards.
Quickly Gaston took in the state of affairs. The men clinging to the water-logged boat must first be rescued, and that quickly.
Ordering his men to pull easily he steered towards the hapless merchants. Two were quickly hauled in, but the work of rescuing the third, a heavily-built man, proved a harder task.
Leaning far over the side, the Norman steersman essayed to assist, but being jolted by one of his excitable fellow-countrymen, he overbalanced and fell headlong into the river.
Waterman born and bred though he was, Gaston could not swim a stroke. Raising his hands despairingly above his head and uttering a yell of terror, he sank, whereupon, without a moment's hesitation, Geoffrey unbuckled his sword-belt and took a flying leap after him.
But the lad had not counted the cost of his brave act. The terrified Norman gripped him round the neck in a vice-like grasp, while during the one brief moment that the English lad's head rose above the water he saw the second wave bearing down upon them.
With irresistible fury the billow overwhelmed both the drowning man and his would-be rescuer. To Geoffrey it seemed as if he was buried fathoms deep in the icy-cold water, while his ears were well-nigh bursting under the pressure of the wave and the bulldog grip of the half-suffocated Norman.
Just as the lad's breath and strength were failing his head appeared above water; at the same time the grasp at his throat relaxed, and he was able to take in a full, deep draught of life-giving air. With a sudden jerk he freed himself of the Norman's grip, and ere the man sank Geoffrey had him by the hair.
"IT DID NOT TAKE LONG FOR THE ENGLISHMEN TO GRASP THE SITUATION."