"That's the way to miss him, master," replied Ben coolly. "We must keep
still. The tide'll bring him to us fast enough."

Ben judged correctly. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly
at the boat's side.

"Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman.

"First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and
clinging to the oar with a dying effort.

"Give it me," returned the carpenter; "all's safe. Now lend me your own
hand."

"My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. "I cannot climb the boat.
Take my child to--it is--oh God!--I am sinking--take it--take it!"

"Where?" shouted Wood.

Darrell attempted to reply. But he could only utter an inarticulate
exclamation. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no
more.

Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his
attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the
incident just described.

"Confusion!" cried he; "there is another boat in our wake. They have
rescued the child. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars--quick--quick!"