“You’ve won,” he gritted. “You’ve won. Take your prize.” Then his eyes fell on Dorothy and Jackson, now close to the edge of the deck. “Stop those two!” he yelled. “By Heaven, no one shall say Peter Forbes does not play fair. She’s chosen you, you infernal convict, and marry you she shall, here and now.”
Howard faced him. “I refuse,” he declared. “Miss Fairfax owes me nothing. I give her back her promise.”
“You do! Then she shall marry me. Me or you! The captain or the jailbird. We’ll have a wedding before we part.”
The man’s face was a mass of cuts and bruises, and his words came gaspingly; but there was no doubt that he was in earnest, and none that he had the men behind him.
Fickle as the wind, they veered back to his side. “A wedding. Let’s have a wedding!” they cried.
Howard looked despairingly around, then darted to the mainmast, caught up a handspike, and swung Dorothy behind him. The fight would be hopeless, but it was for her!
“Come on,” he challenged.
Grimly the men drew near, but before a blow could be struck, Dorothy’s voice rang out.
“Wait!” she cried. Then she turned to Howard. “If you will have me, I will marry you,” she murmured, gently.