Suddenly, without a hint of warning, the end came. Jack was just beginning to thrust the paddle down for a strong, deep stroke when the sampan struck something. The shock was so great that Jack was flung on his face. As he sprang up again he heard Buck cry, "She's hit a floating log." The sampan was uninjured. She had struck the obstacle with her tough keel-piece, and had been turned aside at right angles. The Shan had been flung down too, but was up in an instant and gathering his oars. But this loss of a moment gave the pursuing skiff her chance. Driven by twelve brawny arms, held straight as a dart, her sharp beak of stout, hard teak crashed into the light gunwale of the sampan, hit her broadside, and cut the little vessel down to the water's edge. Scarcely recovered from the first shock, the second hurled Jack headlong. He felt the sampan turn turtle under him, and in another second he was shot into the dark, fierce current, and felt the waters close over his head. CHAPTER IX. A CLOSE CALL. Jack did not rise at once. As he sank, the words of Buck flashed into his mind, and he dived and swam swiftly down stream. When he could stay under no longer, he came very slowly to the surface and put out his face. He drew a deep breath and looked eagerly about for the enemy, dreading to see a heavy oar poised against the sky to beat a swimmer under. But there was nothing close at hand, and he trod water and raised his head very carefully to look round. Suddenly the splash of an oar falling upon the water came to his ears. He looked behind him and saw the dark mass of the skiff thirty yards away. One of the oarsmen was standing up and striking at some object in the water. A pang went through Jack's heart as he realised that one of his companions must be there, struggling for his life, and being brutally beaten under. Then he saw the frightful danger in which he stood himself. At any moment the skiff might shoot towards him. He turned and was about to strike away when a dark object appeared within a few yards of him down stream. It looked like a head, and Jack struck out for it. He swam in silence, and within half a dozen strokes had a man by the hair. He turned the face up to the starlight and saw that it was Jim Dent, and that the gunsmith appeared to be unconscious. Taking a firmer grip of Jim's hair, Jack struck out down stream and swam as fast as he could towards the approaching light, which was now much bigger and brighter. He had turned on his side to swim, and looked back now and again as he rose to his stroke. To his horror he saw the long, dark line which marked the skiff begin to move swiftly after him. It was difficult to swim in silence and support Jim. His splashes had marked them out to the murderers, and they were hastening to beat him and his helpless companion under before help could arrive.