Part 37 (1/2)

I was as much astonished at the result as he was, and as there was a roar of laughter from all on deck, he sat there staring at me and I at him, till I could find words to say indignantly--

”Let the poor fellow be. It's a shame!”

The next minute the man sprang up, and Quong, as he called himself, cowered behind me, the other having in his astonishment loosened the poor fellow's tail and set him free.

”Why, you young c.o.c.kerel,” roared the big fellow, striding up to me, and bringing his left hand down heavily upon my shoulder. ”Not to cut off that yallow scoundrel's tail, arn't I?”

”No,” I cried stoutly, though I felt anything but brave; ”let him alone.”

”Will I? Look here, I'm going to have off that tail; and just to give you a lesson, I'm going to try the edge o' my knife first on one of your ears.”

I wrested myself away, but he was as quick as I was, and had me again directly, holding the knife in a threatening way as if he really intended to fulfil his threat.

”Get hold of the knife, Esau,” I shouted; but it was not his hand and arm which interposed, for Gunson forced himself between us, thrusting me right away, as he said quietly--

”Let the boy alone.”

”Let the boy alone!” cried the big fellow, fiercely. ”No, I shan't let the boy alone. What do you mean by interfering? Who are you?”

”Like yourself, man--an Englishman.”

”And a precious ugly one too. Here, I don't want to hurt you, so be off and lie down.”

He strode on one side, and then made at me, driving me to bay against the bulwark.

”Now then,” he cried, with an ugly laugh, which did not conceal his rage, ”I've got you again, have I?”

”No,” said Gunson quietly, as he took him by the collar and swung him round, so that he staggered away; but he recovered himself and made at my protector. ”Keep back! the boy is a friend of mine, and I will not have him touched.”

”Friend of yours, is he? Oh, then you want to fight, do you?”

”No,” said Gunson, standing firmly before him, ”I don't want to fight, neither do you, so go your way, and we'll go ours.”

”After a bit, my lad,” cried the man, fiercely. ”This isn't England, but a country where a man can fight if he likes, so clear the course, some of you, and let's see who's best shot.”

He thrust his hand behind him, and pulled a revolver from his hip-pocket, c.o.c.king it as he spoke.

”Now then, out with your own,” he cried.

But Gunson seized the man's wrist instead, gave it a wrench round, there was a sharp report, and the pistol fell heavily on the deck, and was secured by one of the sailors.

”Give him a hug, mate,” cried the man who had joined in the attack upon the Chinaman.

”That's what I'm just going to do, my lad,” said the big fellow in hoa.r.s.e, angry tones. ”He's got hold of the wrong pig by the ear this time;” and to my horror he drew back a little, and then suddenly darted his body forward and locked Gunson in his arms.

I had often heard tell of and read accounts about wrestling, but this was the first time I had ever witnessed an encounter in the old English sport, if sport it could be called, where two strong men, one far bigger and heavier than the other, swayed to and fro, heaving, straining, and doing all they could to throw one another.

There was a dead silence on the deck, and pa.s.sengers, skipper, and sailors all bent forward, eagerly watching the encounter, but not one with such earnestness as I, who fully expected to see Gunson flung heavily. But no: he was raised again and again from the deck, but he always recovered his feet, and twined and swayed here and there in a way that completely baffled his powerful adversary.

All this took a very short time, but as I watched I was able to see that Gunson seemed to grow cooler as the struggle went on, while his opponent became more enraged.