boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it
aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had
terminated. For a few minutes, Darrell seemed to have the advantage in
the conflict. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the
fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. The boat rocked
violently with the struggle. Had it not been lashed to the adjoining
wherry, it must have been upset, and have precipitated the opponents
into the water. Rowland felt himself sinking beneath the powerful grasp
of his enemy. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch.
Understanding the appeal, the man snatched his master's sword from his
grasp, and passed it through Darrell's body. The next moment, a heavy
plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves.

Darrell, however, rose again instantly; and though mortally wounded,
made a desperate effort to regain the boat.

"My child!" he groaned faintly.

"Well reminded," answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with
a smile of gratified vengeance; "I had forgotten the accursed imp in
this confusion. Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of
the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father.

The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the
splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. At
this juncture, the sound of oars reached his ears, and he perceived Mr.
Wood's boat bearing up towards him.

"Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter. "I see
him!--row for your life!"