Between the island and the shore a crazy raft was rocking in the water, under the paddles, rough branches of trees, wielded in desperate haste by the German prisoners. From Tom’s high position the reason of their frantic exertions was only too apparent. He could see far into the clear water of the lake. About the raft it was alive with crocodiles. The hideous reptiles swam round and round, sheering off where the water was churned by the paddles, but pushing their snouts on to the edges of the raft where the paddlers stood. The scene would have been laughable but for a possible element of tragedy. The raft was so slight, evidently so hastily put together, that it dipped now on one side, now on another, under the strokes of the paddles or the pressure of the crocodiles’ snouts. Water poured over it. The men dared not shift their positions, for every moment threatened to make it capsize. Divided between anxiety to gain the shore and the urgency of beating off their horrid foes, they used their futile paddles, now for propelling the raft, now for smiting the reptiles’ heads. "The madmen!" thought Tom. "How do they suppose they can escape? But where is the sentry?" Women and children, shouting and screaming, thronged the shore, but there was no armed man among them. Tom watched the scene as if fascinated. The positions of the men on the raft had evidently been arranged with care to ensure its balance, which was disturbed from moment to moment by the violence of their blows. In spite of all, they were making progress towards the lake-side. Suddenly, in a moment, Fate said her last word to Curt Reinecke. Intending to strike a snout that had just slid on to the raft almost at his feet, he overreached himself, the raft tilted, and he was in the water. The shriek that rose from the unhappy man rang long in Tom’s ears. At the spot where he had fallen there was a furious swirl as the crocodiles crowded together, and disappeared into the depths of the lake. For a moment Tom was paralysed with horror. Then collecting himself, he hastened down to the lake, and summoned the women to assist him in launching the large raft on which food was taken to the prisoners. Reinecke’s fate had given the others a short respite. Before the reptiles returned to the surface the Germans had transferred themselves from the one raft to the other, and pale, cowed, trembling mortals, were paddled to the shore. Tom had no time to question them, or to inquire about the missing sentry. The sound of scattered shots drew him at his best speed towards the trench. When he reached it, he found that his men were sniping at individual askaris who were hurriedly making their way, not up, but down the nullah. Surely the enemy were not withdrawing? "Me hear shots long way off, sah," said Mwesa, running towards his master excitedly. Tom thrilled from top to toe. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Sure nuff, sah. Mirambo he say no: old ears, sah, no can hear, same as me."