Ben judged correctly. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side.
"Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman.
"First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort.
"Give it me," returned the carpenter; "all's safe. Now lend me your own hand."
"My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. "I cannot climb the boat. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!"
"Where?" shouted Wood.
Darrell attempted to reply. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more.
Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described.
"Confusion!" cried he; "there is another boat in our wake. They have rescued the child. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!"
These commands were promptly obeyed. The boat was set free, and the men resumed their seats. Rowland's purposes were, however, defeated in a manner as unexpected as appalling.