He swam with all his might, but made little or no progress. Now and then he looked over his shoulder at some mark on the shore, to find he was not making more way than a third of what he had counted upon. Into every stroke he put all his skill and all his vigour. He began to wonder whether his strength would last until he reached the reef. Even if he had strength enough to reach the reef and then found himself with no reserve he could do nothing, for the work to be done on the reef itself was almost as arduous as that to be done in the water. The perilous passage through the rock had to be forced--a thing never before attempted--before those on board could throw him a rope.
With the dogged determination to fight out to the last, he swam on. He had arranged before leaving that when he threw up his right hand those on shore were to haul in; when he did that he had been vanquished. At length, after, a desperate struggle, he reached the reef, and paused here a moment to rest, treading the water in the shelter of a rock where there was a slight backwater. But the backwater acting on his body was not enough to overcome the strain of the water on the line, and he found himself losing ground slowly. This ground had been too dearly won to be lightly lost now. The moment had arrived for the supreme effort. He must force that passage at once, or give up all hope of success.
Having pulled in some of the slack of the rope by a few vigorous strokes, and waited until the water of a wave swept past him, he fronted the opening.
The opening was little more than wide enough to admit a man. He was nearly spent, and owing to the narrowness of the passage, he was obliged to change the ordinary arm-stroke for "dog-fashion," and this caused him a loss. But then, when he could touch the rocks, although they were as smooth as polished marble, he was able to get a purchase on them, and force himself forward more successfully than if he had been swimming in the ordinary way in ordinary water.
But when he looked up to the cleft through which he had to make his way, his spirit failed him. It was at least fifty feet long and as straight as a gun barrel. At the exterior mouth it was wider than at the interior. Hence, as the water rushed through, it would gain in force and height. Who could withstand such a rush of water? Who, so spent as he, could hope to stem the fierce fury of that on-rush of the wave?
These thoughts passed almost instantaneously through his mind. He had made only four strokes after entering the cleft when he heard the next wave burst upon the beach, and saw the hoary head of the bore rushing down upon him.
He prepared to dive. But the fierce waters struck his head and shoulders before he was under water, and threw him upright in the water, turned him over on his back and shot him head foremost from the cleft into the open water beyond. Then the torrent turned him over and over until he was half stunned, and when at last he came to the surface, he had only enough strength and consciousness to hold up his arm, the signal of recall.
The men on shore pulled the line with a will; and in a short time Bence, the best swimmer of the village, was drawn ashore, defeated, insensible.
"Send for a doctor at once," said Cheyne, in a quiet tone.
The people, to whom by this time had been added many servants from the Castle, stared at the stranger in unpleasant surprise. Who was he that should give orders to them when their own lord and master, their husbands and their brothers, were in danger?