y and make out the man who had gone over first, and a
terrible catching of the breath assailed him as he realised the distance
he had been left behind by the swiftly-gliding schooner.

Even the boatswain was far away, swimming hard and giving out a heavy
puff like some grampus just rising to breathe.

"This way, boys!" he shouted. "Come along! Cheer up, my hearty! I am
coming fast."

He ceased speaking now, as the boat followed in his track, and Fitz as
he knelt in the bows reached behind him to begin fumbling for the
boat-hook, finding it and thrusting it out like a little bowsprit, ready
to make a snatch when the time should come. But his effort seemed as if
it would be vain, for after what seemed in the excitement to be a
terribly long row, the boat was brought abreast of the swimming
boatswain.

"Can't you see him, Butters?" shouted Poole, who had now joined Fitz.

"No, my lad," came in a hoarse gasping tone. "Can't you?"

"No. I saw the water splash not a minute ago. It was just beyond where
you were swimming."

"No; more to the left," cried Fitz. "Ah, there! There! There!" and he
pointed out in the direction he had described.

"Yes, that's it," roared the boatswain, who seemed suddenly to have
recovered his breath, and throwing himself away from the boat, whose
side he had grasped, he splashed through the water for a few yards
towards where a ring of gold seemed to have been formed, and as the boat
followed, and nearly touched his back, he seemed to be wallowing in an
agitated pool of pale greenish fire, which went down and down for quite
a couple of fathoms, the boat passing right above it with the men
backing water at a shout from Poole, so that they passed the
disappearing swimmer again.

"Now," shouted Fitz, as the golden light began to rise, and thrusting
down the boat-hook he felt it catch against the swimmer's side.

The next moment the boatswain was up with a rush, to throw one arm over
the bows.

"Got him!" he gasped.

There was a quick scramble, the water almost lapped over the side as the
starboard-bow went down, and then, partly with the hauling of the boys,
partly by the big sturdy boatswain's own efforts, the unfortunate Bob
Jackson was dragged aboard, the boatswain rolling in after him with his
messmates' help, and subsiding between two of the thwarts with a hoarse,
half-strangled groan.

"Hooroar!" came from the men, the boys' voices dominating the shout with
a better pro