Putting every ounce I could into my stroke, I set off down stream.  It was just a question as to whether I could clear them, and I doubt if any winner of the Diamond Sculls could have shoved that dinghy along much faster than I did for the next few seconds.  Nearer and nearer we drew to each other, and for one instant I thought that I had done the trick.  Then from the corner of my eye I saw the cutter fairly leap forward through the water, and the next moment, with a jolt that almost flung me out of the seat, she bumped alongside.

Dropping his oar, one of the men leaned over and grabbed hold of my gunwale.

“No go, Mister,” he observed breathlessly.  “You got to come along with us.”

The words had hardly left his lips when with a wild shout the officer in charge leaped to his feet.

“Look out, there!” he yelled.  “Port, you fools!  Port your helm!”

I swung round, and got a momentary glimpse of a sharp white prow with a great fan of water curling away each side of it, and then, before I could move, there came a jarring, grinding crash, mixed with a fierce volley of shouts and oaths.

CHAPTER XXIII

IN THE NICK OF TIME

My impressions of what happened next are a trifle involved.  Something hit me violently in the side, almost knocking me silly, while at the same moment the boat seemed to disappear from beneath me, and I was flying head first into the water.  I struck out instinctively as I fell, and came to the surface almost at once.  I just remember a blurred vision of floating wreckage, with something white rising up in front of me.  Then a rope came hurtling through the air, and caught me full in the face.  I clutched at it wildly, and the next thing I knew I was being dragged violently through the water and hauled in over the side of the launch.

It was all over so quickly that for a moment I scarcely realized what had happened.  I just lay where I was, gasping for breath, and spitting out a large mouthful of the Thames which I had unintentionally appropriated.  Above the throbbing of the engine and the swish of the screw I could still hear a confused medley of shouts and curses.

With an effort I sat up and looked about me.  We had already changed our course, and were swinging round in a half-circle, preparatory to heading back down stream.  The smashed remains of the two boats were bobbing about behind us, and in the midst of them I could make out the figures of the coast-guards, clinging affectionately to various bits of wreckage.

Besides myself, there were three other men in the launch.  Dr. McMurtrie was sitting on the seat just opposite, pouring out the contents of a flask into a small metal cup.  Against the cabin door leaned Savaroff, eyeing me with his usual expression of hostile mistrust.  The third passenger was the man with the auburn beard, whom I had seen in the launch on the day I picked up Mr. Gow.  He was busy with the tiller, and for the moment was paying scant attention to any of us.