e uplifted wrist, 'ere he could
strike the second time, I knew my antagonist. I knew also this was a
fight to the death, a sharp remorseless struggle to be terminated
before that unguarded crew below could attain the deck. It was
LeVere's life or mine, and in the balance the fate of those others in
the waiting boat alongside. The knowledge gave me the strength and
ferocity of a tiger; all the hate and distrust I felt for the man came
uppermost. In that moment of rage I did not so much care what happened
to me, if I was only privileged to kill him. I ripped the knife from
his fingers, and we closed with bare hands; our muscles cracking to
the strain, his voice uttering one croaking cry for help as I bore in
on his windpipe. He was a snake, a cat, slipping out of my grip as by
some magic, turning and twisting like an eel, yet unable to wholly
escape, or overcome, my strength and skill. At last I had him prone
against the rail, the weight of us both so hard upon it, the stout
wood cracked, and we both went over, grappling together until we
splashed into the water below. The shock, the frantic effort to save
myself, must have loosened my hold, for, as I fought a way back to the
surface, I was alone, lost in the veil of mist.

Blinded by fog, the water dripping from my hair, weakened by struggle
and loss of blood, my mad rage against LeVere for the moment obscured
all else in my mind. What had become of the fellow? Had he gone down
like a stone? Or was he somewhere behind this curtain of fog? A splash
to the right led me to take a dozen strokes hastily, but to no
purpose. The sound was not repeated and I no longer retained any sense
of direction to guide me. The sea was a steady swell, lifting my body
on the crest of a wave, to submerge it an instant later in the deep
hollow. I could feel the motion, but scarcely perceived it otherwise,
as the thick gray mist obscured everything three feet away. It
deadened and confused sound also. Again and again I felt I located
the near presence of the _Namur_, the sound of feet on deck, the shout
of a voice, the flapping of canvas against the yards; but as I
desperately turned that way, the noise ceased, or else apparently
changed into another point of compass. Once a cry reached me,
thrilling with despair, although I could not catch the words, and
again came to me plainly enough the clank of an oar in its rowlock. I
struck out madly for the point from whence it came, only to find the
s