Part 27 (1/2)

Now they fought as desperately to get out of the wheelhouse as they had a minute earlier to get in. They were in a panic of fear, fancying themselves trapped.

I was flung against Bothwell, his furious face so close to mine that the hot breath filled my nostrils. We tried to grip each other, but in the huddle we were thrust apart.

Suddenly the room was no longer full, I could see that the enemy was in flight. Before I reached the open I knew that the day was won.

Alderson, Billie Blue, and Morgan were pursuing the flying rabble.

Bothwell, making play with his cutlas against both Blythe and Yeager, was retreating slowly to the bridge rail. I remember crying out as I ran toward them.

Bothwell vaulted over the rail to the deck below. I followed like a fool, for in the row I had lost my weapons. As I recall it now, Sam shouted to me to come back. But there was some idiotic notion in my head that the Russian might run into the reception room with his fellows and get possession of the women.

Instead, he turned and slashed at me. The blow would have carved my head had not I dodged. At that I received a nasty swipe in the arm. It was not possible to stop. All I could do was to slip past him and continue running.

George Fleming had stopped at the head of the stairway to the main deck.

He leveled a pistol and waited for me. Bothwell was at my heels. I was between the devil and the deep sea.

”We've got him!” the Russian cried.

I swung in behind one of the boats which lay under a tarpaulin near the edge of the deck. Simultaneously I heard the engineer's gun crack. No rabbit could have clambered around the boat quicker than _I_. Bothwell had doubled back and was charging me. His whistling cutlas hissed down not an inch from my ear and ripped through the tarpaulin to bury the blade in the wood of the bow.

I scudded back toward the bridge, my enemy in full chase.

Every instant I expected to feel the slash of his blade between my shoulders. It seemed to me that my leaden feet clung to the planks, that a toddling child could do that stretch to safety quicker than I was doing it.

As I ran the deck began to tilt dizzily. Before my eyes there spread a haze. All grew black even while my feet still automatically moved.

”Badly hurt, old man?”

The voice came to me from a great distance. With returning consciousness I found that the strong arm of its owner was supporting my head and shoulders. My eyes looked into those of our captain.

”It's all right, Jack,” he explained. ”We got to you just as you fell and Tom drove that villain back. How badly cut are you?”

”A glancing cut, I think. But I'm a bit dizzy? We beat them, didn't we?”

”Yes. The rats have scuttled back to their holes.”

He helped me into the reception room and I sank down on the lounge.

”Just a bit light-headed,” I explained to Yeager, who came in at that moment.

”Glad it's no worse. We gave them a drubbing, anyhow.”

”Get Bothwell?” asked Sam.

”Nope. My gun was empty. I had him at the foot of the ladder, not ten feet from the muzzle, and _click_--nothing doing. The beggar turned and laughed in my face.”

”Keep a lookout, Alderson,” the captain ordered, while he unb.u.t.toned my coat. ”Tom, you'd better take a look around and size up the damage.”