The savage who had been climbing up the rounded deck had made a spring for Glennie's back. Motor Matt leaped about the same time, grabbing the native before he could do the ensign any harm.
Matt, and the man he was holding, fell to the deck, rolled over the rounded plates, and splashed into the water.
"A rope!" howled Carl, jumping up and down on the deck to attract Dick's attention; "a rope! Matt iss in der vater mit a Inchun, und he vill be trowned!"
Dick came hurrying up the ladder with a coil of line.
"Here!" he cried, tossing the coil to Carl. "Get busy, mate. I'll lay the Grampus closer, and mind Matt gets hold of the rope."
Matt and the native were still struggling. The fact that they were in fifteen or twenty fathoms of water did not seem to impress either of them with the necessity of swimming to keep afloat.
When they first tumbled into the water, there was a great splash, and they disappeared; when they came up, they were puffing like porpoises, but Matt had his hands around his antagonist's throat, and the savage was hanging to Matt's hair.
"Help Glennie!" sputtered Matt, who, by then, was some distance astern. "Capture that man!"
"Glennie be hanged!" growled Dick. "We'll save our old raggie, no matter what happens to the blooming ensign."
Carl, standing ready to heave the rope, was mixed up in the ensign's battle by an unexpected trend of it which nearly knocked him overboard. The two, still twisting and striving for possession of the spear, struggled toward the conning tower and collided with the Dutch boy. The matter of self-defense suddenly presented itself to Carl, and he dropped the rope and went for the savage like a tiger.