CHAPTER XVIII. THE RESULT OF AN UNEQUAL CONFLICT.
Buck Lamb evidently considered himself as more than a match for Paul Bristol, for neither Walk Billcord nor his father had given the students the particulars of the battle at Sandy Point. All the magnate said was that he and his son had been insulted and assaulted by the ungrateful son of the woman he had harbored on his land. Buck was a stout fellow, who had the reputation of possessing scientific skill in the noble art of pugilism, and who was ready for any fellow of his avoirdupois, either with soft gloves or with hard gloves, or with no gloves at all.
Happily, Paul had no knowledge of the reputation of the bully, which the more knowing of the students would have said was only reputation. In his ignorance of the accredited accomplishments of Buck Lamb, Paul was not in the least afraid of him. Possibly, though not probably, if he had known what a bruiser the leader of the six ruffians claimed to be, he would have taken to his heels and escaped in the best way he could, or expressed his willingness to obey the imperative order of his assailant.
Buck not only intercepted his intended victim, but he levelled a blow with his iron fist, as he called it, at the modest nose of Paul Bristol. This was enough to satisfy the son of toil, who had often hoed corn and potatoes in the garden near the corner, that his opponent meant business. He parried the blow aimed at him successfully, and it was the right time for him to have returned it; but Paul did not yet mean business, for he was not a fighting character, and despised the whole subject of pugilism. Instead of striking, he looked about him for the means of escape, and discovered two more of the ruffians running with all their might towards the scene of the encounter. They wore the uniform of the barges of the institute, as did Buck and Ham. There was no chance of escape, and Paul was beginning to get a glimmering idea of the purpose of the assault. He concluded that the fellows before and behind him were to punish him for what he had done the day before at Sandy Point.
Buck Lamb did not wait for the second pair of the ruffians to join him; and in that he made a bad mistake for himself. His blow had been parried, and he began to think that his antagonist had some skill in the sublime art of pugilism; in this he was again mistaken, for Paul had never learned the first thing about it. He was fully roused, and he aimed a second blow at Paul, which was not as successfully warded off as the first had been, and he received a portion of its force in his right cheek.
Perhaps this hit was needed to render Paul fully equal to the needs of the occasion; at any rate, it roused all the tiger of his nature, and then he was ready for anything that might come. He attempted to parry the blow with his left arm; but as soon as the hit was felt on his cheek, he struck a tremendous blow with his right hand. It was the stroke of a son of toil, whose muscles had been hardened by constant labor. It fell between the eyes of the bully, which seemed to be a favorite locality for Paul.
The pugilist of the institute reeled backwards, and then fell over into the dirt in the middle of the street. Doubtless he saw all the stars his vision could encompass, and his ideas were awfully confused. At any rate, he did not "come to time," but lay on the ground where he had fallen.
Ham Jackson was appalled at the result of the first onslaught, which was accomplished in a tenth part of the time it has taken to narrate it. Perhaps he was not a pugilist; but it was certain from his actions that he was not prepared for the state of things now existing. He seemed to be quite as much bewildered as his companion in the dirt. But he recovered himself more quickly, and rushed upon Paul with the apparent intention of seizing him by the collar of his coat. But the son of toil did not know what he meant, and only saw him coming. Without waiting to inquire into his purpose Paul gave him the counterpart of the blow which had upset Buck Lamb. The effect was precisely the same, and Ham went over backwards.
The two students approaching from the rear were only a few rods distant, and Paul did not wait for them to come any nearer. As he would gladly have done in the first place, he took to his heels and ran as fast as he could towards the main street. Before he reached it, he looked back to see if his enemies were pursuing him. The two who had just come up with their unhorsed companions were picking them up, and there was no effort yet made to overtake him.
Paul slacked his speed to a walk, and as he approached the main street he saw two more students in the barge uniform. The instant they discovered him, they rushed to a position in front of him. One of them commanded him to stop; but he declined to do so. One of them attempted to seize the collar of his coat, and Paul felt obliged to hit again. His blow was parried better than either of his former assailants had been able to do it, but he repeated the attempt with success. The blood spurted from the nose of the foremost student, but he was not upset by the shock.
Both of them came upon him then, the second putting one of his feet between Paul's legs while he was attending to the first, and tripping him up. Down went the son of toil, and the two ruffians pounced upon him with the intention of holding him till the rest of the party joined them. But Paul did not hold still worth a cent; and with his great strength he shook off his assailants.
The last couple were more plucky than the first had proved to be, and they followed him up very closely. The victim rained blows upon them without regard to the belt, hitting them where he could. He was furious, and raging like a lion. It was a very uneven combat, and Paul was rapidly exhausting himself. The second of his present antagonists used his boots almost exclusively. He kicked the son of toil in the shins, and labored to trip him up again. Just as Paul had given the one who used fists a blow between the eyes, which upset him, the leg operator succeeded, by an attack in the rear, in bringing the victim to the ground.
As soon as Paul was down, Mad Twinker, who was the one who demonstrated with his boots, jumped upon him, and clawed his fingers into the throat of the unfortunate son of toil. Just at this moment the party from the back street came up, and the two fresh ruffians assisted Mad in securing the victim. They had obtained a couple of pieces of bedcord at the house of the major, and they tied his arms behind him.
Paul was so exhausted that he could make no further resistance, and he submitted to be bound. His breath was hardly shorter than that of his last opponents, who were now wiping the blood from their faces. The ruffians had earned their money, so far as the capture of the victim was concerned; and it only remained for them to deliver the prisoner to Major Billcord at Sandy Point.
Two of the ruffians went to a pump and wet their handkerchiefs, with which they washed their own faces. Paul's handkerchief was taken from his pocket, and the stains of blood were removed from his battered face. In a few minutes they had wiped away the traces of the conflict. Then two of the students, one on each side, took Paul by the arms and marched him towards the wharf. When they came in sight of it, they saw that all the barges were manned, and had pulled a short distance from the shore, where they awaited the absent members of the crews. The Beech Hillers had taken position off the end of the pier, while the Chesterfields were near the land.
There was still quite a collection of people on the wharf, drawn thither for the purpose of seeing the barges, and possibly expecting a race or a fight, the latter being more probable in the opinion of the spectators; the battles of the previous season having been duly reported in the town. The Silver Moon, with Bissell and Dory in the standing-room, was running with the wind on her beam for Scotch Bonnet. The six ruffians halted when they came in sight of the wharf, and gathered around their prisoner.
"This will never do," said Mad Twinker, shaking his head. "We can't take him through that crowd of people on the wharf."
"That's so," replied Buck Lamb, who had lost some of his prestige since his overthrow, and Mad Twinker had come to the front. "Four of us can handle him well enough now. Jeff Monroe, and you, Steve Douglas, go and get Bissell's four-oar boat."
"Bissell isn't there now," replied Jeff.
"Stop at his store as you go along, hire it for a couple of hours, and get the key," continued Mad Twinker. "Pull up to the creek at the head of the bay, and we will meet you there."
Though there appeared to be no one in the streets, for all the idlers had gone down to the wharf, there were people in the houses. Among the latter was Miss Susy Wellington, who had pulled an oar in the Marian. She had gone home to change her wet dress for a dry one, and saw from her chamber window the capture of Paul Bristol by the ruffians. She had heard something in the boat about Paul's battle with Major Billcord and his son, and she had some idea of the occasion of the assault upon the son of toil.
While Mad Twinker and his fellow-ruffians were hurrying their prisoner to the creek, she hastened down to the wharf. On her way she stopped at Bissell's store, where she had worked with Lily Bristol. She learned that her employer had gone off in the sloop again, and that some of the Chesterfields had just hired the four-oar boat. She continued on her way, and soon saw the two students in her employer's boat, pulling rapidly towards the head of the bay. When she reached the end of the wharf she waved her handkerchief to the Marian, and beckoned with all her might with her hand.
Dick Short gave the order "Stern all!" and the barge backed up within hail of the fair oarswoman. The coxswain asked her if she desired to pull an oar in the barge again.
"We are waiting for Paul Bristol, and he ought to be on board by this time," added Dick. "If he don't come, you can take his place."
"No, I thank you, Mr. Coxswain," replied Miss Susy, and she proceeded to detail what she had seen from her window.
"Paul a prisoner!" exclaimed Dick, thoroughly aroused by the intelligence. "Stand by! Give way lively!"
He ran the Marian under the stern of the Gildrock, and reported the astounding intelligence to Commodore Chester.
"A prisoner!" exclaimed Oscar, startled by the news. "Where is he now?"
"Do you see that boat near the head of the bay? Two of the six fellows who captured Paul were sent for the boat, while the others took him in that direction."
"This looks like serious business. The Chesterfield barges both lie between us and that small boat," continued Oscar Chester.
The Gildrock was hauled around so that the commodore could confer with Thad Glovering. The details were repeated so that all the students in the three barges heard the whole story.
"It looks as though the rascals were going to bring Paul off in that boat, and put him on board of the Racer or the Dasher," which were the names of the two Chesterfield barges.
"Then, if we pull up there in a hurry, we may be able to get him away from them," added Thad Glovering.
"On the other hand, if the fellows in charge of the prisoner see our barges coming, they will put Paul ashore."
It was a difficult point to settle.