He heard a scuffle, and then a heavy splash.
"There's trouble there," said Jo Portugais, straining his eyes through the night, for a kind of low roar, dwindling to a loud whispering, and then a noise of hurrying feet, came down the stream, and he could dimly see dark figures running away into the night by different paths.
"Some dirty work, very sure," said Jo Portugais, and his eyes travelled back over the dark water like a lynx's, for the splash was in his ear, and a sort of prescience possessed him.

He could not stop his raft.

It must go on down the current, or be swerved to the shore, to be fastened.
"God knows, it had an ugly sound," said Jo Portugais, and again strained his eyes and ears.

He shifted his position and took another oar, where the raft-lantern might not throw a reflection upon the water.

He saw a light shine again through the tavern doorway, then a dark object block the light, and a head thrust forward towards the river as though listening.
At this moment he fancied he saw something in the water nearing him.