About twenty yards from the shore he came up for a moment, then dived again heading for the island.

I dare say I could have potted him through the head with a snap shot, but somehow I did not like to kill a man swimming for his life as though he were a hippopotamus or a crocodile.

Moreover, the boldness of the manoeuvre appealed to me.

So I refrained from firing and called to the others to do likewise.
As our late host approached the shore of the island I saw Arabs running down the rocks to help him out of the water.

Either they had not left the place, or had re-occupied it as soon as H.M.S._Crocodile_ had vanished with her prize.