"All right, you first!" raged Pierre, and swung two heavy blows to Ben's head. The latter staggered, then shook off the effect of the blows doggedly. He sprang in and was enfolded by Pierre in a bear-like hug. Ben managed to trip his opponent. They fell to the floor, rolling over and over, kicking, gouging, biting. For Pierre was not in a mood to waste time on finesse; and Ben was forced to meet him with his own methods in an effort at self-preservation.
Dare, his face strained and white, watched the uneven conflict. He knew Ben had no chance in a rough-and-tumble with Pierre, and he sought to aid him before he should be crippled or worse. He hovered round the two, watching his chance. But it was impossible to distinguish between the opponents, so swift and tortuous were their movements.
Then suddenly Pierre managed to drive his knee deep into Ben's stomach. Ben gave an immense sigh as the air was expelled from his lungs, then relaxed his hold and lay helpless. Pierre, as quick as a panther, was on his feet, his face disfigured with hate and rage. He raised his heavily booted foot, aiming at the prostrate figure on the floor.
Dare suddenly felt the red tide of hate rise in himself, a hate of the cowardly and brutal gesture.
"No, you don't!" he shrieked vindictively, and raising the wooden pump-handle he had seized as a weapon when he came on board, he brought it down heavily on Pierre's flaming head.
The heavy, poised foot stopped in mid-air. The kick was never delivered. Pierre was struck suddenly immobile, then his body sagged like a bag of sawdust and he fell to the floor without a word or a cry. The last of the smugglers had been taken.
CHAPTER XII
THE CLOSING OF THE "OVEN"
Dare was standing at the window of his father's office, looking out over the town to where the Drake rode at anchor. In the room were Captains McDonnell and Stanley, deep in the details of the coup which had been carried out so successfully that morning. All the smugglers had been taken. Twenty-four in number, they were reposing at that moment in cells which the Drake held ready for the detention of such as themselves. Some of them were badly hurt, and most of them carried cuts and bruises, as did the Drake's crew. There had been no fatality, however, to the great satisfaction of both Captain McDonnell and Captain Stanley; for the crew of the Drake had used only the butt-ends of their rifles, while the smugglers had been caught weaponless save for a few knives. Excepting the shot fired as a signal at the entrance to the cave, no force except that of physical strength had been used against the smugglers, but that had sufficed. Nine had been taken on the cliff, twelve in the cave, and three at the cache, where that member of the Drake's crew detailed for the duty had found them and easily overpowered them with the threat of his rifle.
The cache had yielded a great store of illicit goods of all descriptions. These had been seized and placed on board the Mary, which now rode at anchor in Saltern harbour, her hold and her cabin and fo'c'sle sealed, awaiting her fate.