There were two boats chained to their posts, but, to his mortification, the mooring-chains were fast locked. Catching up a large pebble, he began hammering desperately at one of the locks, and then plucking violently at the chain. It resisted all his efforts. The pursuers were at hand; he turned and plunged into the stream.
The next moment Sir Henry was at the boat, produced a key, and though with an agitated hand and panting for breath, unlocked the chain, and whilst he pushed off the boat, gave Tom Boddily the key to unlock the other. Quickly they were both in the first boat, and were cutting the water after the fugitive. Sir Henry was a master in handling his oars, and sent the light skiff forward with an admirable speed. Tom offered to take an oar. “No, Boddily, take the boat-hook, and mind that the scoundrel does not come so near as to grapple us; if he do, we shall entirely be swamped, and must swim for it. If he attempt it, push him off, and don’t be afraid of pricking him with the spike. See! the fellow is a knowing one. He won’t battle with the current by cutting directly across; he is dropping down stream slantwise to the meadow shore; we must keep him off there at all costs.”
Away pulled Sir Henry, taking a course somewhat nearer to the meadow shore on their left hand; and now the other boat was rapidly advancing, with two rowers and two other strong men in her, and endeavouring to cut below the swimmer. With stupendous strength and agility the daring haunter of woods and midnight fields ploughed his way through the water. His muscular arms sent back waves like a strong pair of oars, and that black, curly head of his rose at every vigorous stroke more visibly above the stream. As Sir Henry drew nearer to him, they could see the savage scowl of his dark eyes, and the seething wrath with which he blew the clear waves from his lips.
“He is a dangerous customer, Tom,” said Sir Henry; “we must give him a wide berth, always guarding against his escape to the shore, till the other boat is at hand. We must play with our fish, and exhaust him as much as possible, for, at all odds, he would do some mischief at close quarters.”
But now the sound of the oars of the other boat caught Scammel’s ear. He turned his head hastily that way, and then a darker hue came over his savage features. The whites of his eyes showed glaringly as he glanced first at one shore and then at the other. Suddenly he changed his course, and struck further down the main current.
“That,” said Sir Henry, “is to ease himself. By throwing himself on the rapid current, he hopes to ride ahead of us, and then gain the shallows to the left, not far off, where he could run for it. But all in vain! The stream carries us with still more ease and velocity. See! he evidently flags. His strokes are less vigorous; his body is deeper in the water. He can only keep it out of his mouth and nostrils by blowing like a porpoise. Ha! he fails. See that yellow-black hue—that sullen, despairing expression of his face! And the other boat is just upon him: let us close in.”
At this moment they were in a rapid, whirling current, caused by the stream rushing round the projection of an island. At once the desperate poacher and murderer cast a furious glance on one boat and then on the other, from which several hands were already straining to seize him; and throwing aloft his arms over his head, with a savage, half-drowned exclamation, “Damnation!” he went down perpendicularly like a stone. There was a burst of horror from all in the boats.
“Keep a sharp look-out!” cried Sir Henry; “steady your boats!—don’t let them drift, if you can help it!”
All eyes were strained to catch a sight of the black head again emerging, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“Mark something on the shore,” said Sir Henry, “to determine the spot he went down at.”