Harry Paul, as he struggled in the water, was like a fly in the web of a spider, for every effort seemed only to increase the tangle.  He could not break that which yielded on every side, but with fresh lengths coming over the lugger's side to tangle him the more.  Even if he had had an open sharp knife in his hand he could hardly have cut himself free, and in the horror of those brief moments he found that his struggles were sending him deeper and deeper, and that unconsciously he had wound himself still farther in the net, till his arms and legs were pinioned in the cold, slimy bonds, which clung to and wrapped round him more and more.