Could the miscreant finish the lad when swimming, it would be as good a
way as any to dispose of him.
It looked as if he had succeeded, for Jim uttered a groan, and sank out of
sight.
But it was only a trick intended to deceive the sailor.
The latter observed the head as it reappeared, still nearer shore, and he
fired again, two shots, as before. The other sailor, fearful of a miss,
was hastily lowering a boat.
He worked so expeditiously that the craft dropped into the water the next
minute. Both sprang into the boat, and began rowing with might and main in
pursuit of the fugitive.
Poor Sam could only stay on deck, in a torment of fear, while he prayed
the good Lord to protect the boy.
When the little boat left the side of the larger one, Jim Travers had
improved the precious moments to the utmost.
He had already passed over the greater part of the intervening distance,
and never in all his life did he swim as now. And there was need of it,
for the pursuers were determined he should not escape them.
Providentially, none of the bullets had struck him, though one or two had
passed very near.
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