All looked around; Athos himself stared.
“‘Tis he! it is his voice!”
All still remained silent, the eyes of all were turned in the direction where the vessel had disappeared, endeavoring in vain to penetrate the darkness.
After a minute or two they were able to distinguish a man, who approached them, swimming vigorously.
Athos extended his arm toward him, pointing him out to his companions.
“Yes, yes, I see him well enough,” said D’Artagnan.
“He — again!” cried Porthos, who was breathing like a blacksmith’s bellows; “why, he is made of