at hand, while from where he knelt--
fortunately for himself--the coxswain felt his arms being jerked out of
their sockets as he caught with the boat-hook at the brig's main chains.
"Stand by there!" he roared, as he held on. "Lend a hand here to help
the gentlemen on board! Somebody say it in French! Up with you!"

There was no need for the use of another tongue, for a lantern shed its
light down upon them, willing hands were ready, and the Count and Morny
scrambled aboard.

The next moment the Count was giving orders for a rope to be passed down
to the boat.

"Make fast, and come on board!" he shouted. "You'll never get back
to-night."

The order came too late, for as he spoke another order was given out by
Joe Cross, who had loosed the precarious hold he had with the boat-hook,
as he shouted while giving the boat a thrust away--

"Now for it, my lads! Pull for all you know!"

Almost the next moment Rodd dimly saw that they were clear, and as the
men tugged at their oars with all their might he dropped upon his knees
in front of stroke, clapped his hands against the oar, and swinging with
the man, thrust with all his force.

Five minutes of desperate tugging at the oars in the midst of darkness
which seemed to rapidly increase. The men had rowed with all their
force--not to get back to the schooner, but to reach the brig and one of
her ropes that they knew would be thrown to their help; but to Rodd, as
he strained his eyes from where he knelt striving to give force to the
stroke oar, it was like catching so many glimpses, first of the brig's
side, then of its stern, and then once more it was as if they were
standing still in the water and the brig was rushing away.

"Steady, my lads! Don't break your hearts!" cried Joe Cross firmly, his
voice ringing clearer out of the black silence. "It aren't to be done.
Mid-stream's our game. If we try to get ashore we shall be among the
branches, capsized in a moment, and--"

The sailor did not finish his speech then, but Rodd did to himself, and
hot though he was with his exertions, a cold shiver seemed to run
through him, as he mentally said--

"The crocodiles!"

"That's better, my lads. Just a steady pull, and I'll keep as I am with
the boat-hook. We mustn't have a capsize."

"What are you going to do, Joe?" cried Rodd.

"Don't know, sir," said the man gruffly. "Perhaps you can tell me."

"I? No," cried Rodd.

"Ah! That's awkward," said the man.