She flung out her hands to fend me off, and the fat monk and the two nuns cast themselves upon us, the monk striking at my head with his heavy crucifix and the nuns scratching and clawing so that I was put to it to protect my eyes. They were surely three of the bravest people who ever lived, and but for Peter they would have worsted me.
The big Dutchman waded stolidly into the confusion, shoved O'Donnell from his path, upset the monk and pushed the two nuns out of the way.
"You take der little gal, Bob," he squeaked.
She struggled with all the strength in her lissome body, but I pinned her hands and tossed her over my shoulder—and then her father attacked me with the Spanish captain, whose patience had been exhausted by this last outrage.
Murray drew his sword and forced the Spaniard back, and Peter slung O'Donnell over his shoulder as easily as I had the maid.
"I got him, ja," he announced to Murray.
My great-uncle sheathed his sword.
"Carry him along," he said. "Since he is so much concerned as to his daughter's fate, we will permit him to watch it. Afterward, it may be, he can afford us some additional amusement. Stap me, a most persistent fellow!"
The fat monk picked himself up from the deck, waving his crucifix, and launched a tumult of invective which my great-uncle received with raised eyebrows and an occasional humorous interjection. But I had my hands full controlling my prisoner, and paid no more attention to what happened on the poop after I reached the main-deck ladder.
A line of pirates staggered across the deck, backs stooped beneath burdens of portly casks and iron-bound chests, wire-wrapped and padlocked, each a-dangle with leaden seals impressed with the arms of the Spanish king. They leered at my writhing captive and grinned openly at the ridiculous spectacle presented by Colonel O'Donnell's lank form draped over Peter's shoulder. But they all looked quickly away as my great-uncle descended to us.