When he could keep under no longer, he turned on his back, and permitted himself to rise slowly to the surface.
The moment his mouth and nostrils were above water, he got rid of the pent-up air, took another breath, and sank again.

He swam on until he felt, by the ground rising rapidly in front of him, that he was close to the edge.

He then cautiously came to the surface, and looked round.
He was close under the bank from which he had started, but two or three hundred yards higher up.

The bank rose straight up, some twelve feet above him, and he could hear persons talking close to its edge.
"There he is." "No, he isn't." "Pretty nearly over the other side." "I don't see him." "They will catch him as he gets out." "I believe he has sunk." "He never could keep under all this time." "One of the bullets must have hit him." Then a voice in the crowd shouted, "There's his head, just in the middle of the river," and a stone splashed in the stream.

It was followed by a volley of other stones, and several musket shots in the same direction.
Walter, having now got his breath, sank his head quietly below the water and swam on again, keeping close under the bank.