Quick as thought, the baronet whipped up a couple of loaded revolvers, and sallied forth, determined to complete the discomfiture of the enemy. Not to be outdone, Chenobi cast his eyes round for a more serviceable weapon than his spear, finding what he sought at last in an axe. Gripping this, he followed his friend, and, shouting his thunderous war-cry, hurled himself into the midst of his foes.
His attack was the last straw. Unable, with their ignorant brains, to comprehend the apparently invulnerable nature of their two foes; awed, moreover, by the baronet’s firearms, the wolf-men turned, leapt the rail, and dashed across the beach in a frenzy of fear, with the hounds snarling savagely at their heels.
Scarcely had the last left the deck, ere the scientist and his two friends were aboard.
“It was magnificent!” Mervyn exclaimed, “magnificent! Never have I witnessed such a fight. You should have been a soldier, Seymour.”
The baronet laughed as he removed his heavy helmet, and mopped his brow with a handkerchief borrowed from the Yankee.
“The War Office might object to my fighting in chain mail,” he remarked. “Steady there!”—as Wilson made a move for the turret—“Nordhu must be below there somewhere. We must go slow, or the brute will be blowing the boat up.”
“But he may be murdering Garth,” the engineer cried, “while we stand here talking.”
At that moment the priest appeared at the door of the wheelhouse. Probably the cessation of hostilities had brought him on deck; but he had evidently never expected to see the vessel in possession of the men whom he had left without weapons upon the beach. No doubt he thought his savages would be able to repel all attacks of the unarmed white strangers and their gigantic friend. How bitter was his chagrin, the expression of his face showed. Even then, however, trapped though he appeared to be, he made one last bid for life.
Like a flash he darted across the deck, no trace of a limp apparent in his movements. Past Haverly and Mervyn—both of whom were standing somewhat apart from the rest—he dashed; but unwilling to let him escape, the scientist grabbed at his robe. Like the wolf he was at heart, Nordhu swung round, and a weapon flashed from beneath his mantle.
With a hoarse cry of warning, the Yankee leapt forward. The next instant the report of a revolver rang out, and Haverly dropped with a sob, the blood welling up from a wound in his breast.