At sight of them Danbury completely lost his head. It was as though he then first realized what had actually been attempted. He raised his weapon and was upon the point of shooting into their midst when Wilson knocked up his hand and sent the revolver 163 spinning across the deck. But Danbury scarcely looked around to see who had foiled him. He rushed headlong into the group as though he were the center of a football team. He struck right and left with his naked fists and finally by chance fell upon Splinter. The two rolled upon the deck until the mate stooped and picked up Splinter bodily and, raising him above his head, fairly hurled him like a bag of grain down the ladder after the last of the mutineers.
Danbury, in spite of his loss of blood, held himself together wonderfully. For the next hour all were busy, and between them placed Splinter in irons, and crowded the mutineers, a cowed lot, into the forward hold. They found Stubbs still unconscious, but he came around after a good swig of brandy. He rose to his elbow and blinked dazedly at Danbury.
“What’s the trouble?” he demanded.
“Mutiny,” answered Danbury, briefly.
“And me laid up, an’ outer it. Jus’ my pizen luck,” he growled.
CHAPTER XIV
In the Shadow of the Andes
As soon as lights were secured an examination of the battle ground was made. Four men were found, three of them with leg wounds which did no more than cripple them, and one with a scalp wound made by a grazing bullet which had knocked him unconscious. There was no surgeon aboard, but one of the mates had a good working knowledge of surgery and cleaned and dressed the wounds.