His eyes were on the Grenadier, a black and yellow fellow, with a wart between the brows. That wart held Kit's imagination. It sickened him. It was just his luck to have to deal with a warted man, when he had always loathed warts! But for the wart he felt he could have been heroic.
At the thought the tide of his humour welled within him; and the Grenadier was amazed to see a smile in the eyes of this boy with the long face, ghastly-pale, racing against him.
Taken off his guard, he smiled too.
So each ran towards the other, whom he meant to kill, with smiling eyes.
II
The cottage door began to open slowly, so slowly.
The boy could see the old foretop-man in the darkened passage. A hatchet was in his mouth; he was handling the door with one hand, and his chair with the other.
So easy for a whole man to open the door, so hard for the disabled seaman!
The Grenadier, hounding with huge strides, was already almost there.
"Man on your left, Piper!" the boy screamed.