"Fair play for all," proclaimed his stentorian voice. "The Buckskin was one o' Murray's crew, and he took the girl in fair fight. He's put his mark on her, and if he wants to fight for her he can, pris'ner or no pris'ner."
Bones observed the mounting turmoil with an obvious mingling of emotions. He realized he had been tricked, but he did not yet see how it had been done or comprehend the ulterior purpose of Silver's strategy. To do him justice, I do not believe that he feared me or doubted his ability to kill me in a knife-fight, for I had never had occasion to exhibit my skill with the knife before the pirates. He simply knew that he had been lured into a position where he must fight personally to maintain his authority over the crew, and the initial flare of his hatred was naturally directed against me. But he did not forget Silver.
"I'll mind this," he flung at the one-legged man as he crouched forward to meet me, knife poised across his chest and left arm extended to clutch at my knife-wrist or parry a stab from the side.
"'Tain't my doin's, Bill, if ye will ha' the girl," remonstrated Silver. "I warned ye o' Rule Four. And the cap'n's all the same as any other in a question o' honor."
"That's right," shouted a score of throats. "Cap'n's got to meet anybody."
"I'll meet some others a'ter I finish this swab," gritted Bones.
I circled away from him, gaging the effect of the swaying lanthorn-light upon the deck shadows and the feel of the pitchy planks underfoot.
"Stand to it, —— ye," he snarled. "Don't let him break from the ring, mates. I want his heart for that wench to chew on—and mind the fat Dutchman doesn't jump on my back. He's a bad 'un, he is."
Silver was prompt to summon half a dozen men to block off Peter, who, having seen me use the scalping-knife of the frontier since childhood, was not in any way concerned as to what I should be able to do against a half-drunken sailor whose one idea of knife-fighting was to grab his opponent's wrist at the same time the opponent grabbed his, and then strain and heave until one of the pair tore loose and struck.
"Don't ye worry, Bill," counseled the one-legged man soothingly. "We won't let the Dutchman nor nobody else harm ye. Just you hop in and gut the Buckskin—if ye can."