"Keep off," he shrieked. "Keep off!" And then: "I can't reach him, Ezra. Let him have it!"
Pew crouched with his knife-hand drawn back.
"Aye, it takes blind Pew to let him have it," he croaked in his hateful voice.
His hand jerked forward. There was a flash in the moonlight, and my great-uncle staggered, the flung knife buried to the hilt in his side.
"I am stabbed," he gasped.
Silver brandished his crutch over his head.
"Pew's stabbed Murray!" he shouted. "Come on, Walruses! Lay off, ye James lads—we'll not harm ye, mates. Treasure for all, and no more tyranny!"
Peter and I caught my great-uncle as he fell. Coupeau jumped at the blind man with a bellow of rage, cutlass raised to strike; but as he came within reach Silver poised his crutch like a spear, leaned over and drove the sharp spike of the ferrule through the gunner's eye into the brain. Coupeau dropped in his tracks.
"I ha' done for Coupeau," Silver shouted again. "Don't make Long John do it all, lads!"
There was such a rush of enemies, such a howl of exultation, as took my breath away.