“Not yet! Lay a good aim on the proa. We’ve got to blow her out o’ the water!”
“Aye, aye, sir!” And Bevans patted the rusty old piece. “Leave that to me, sir!”
Briggs turned again to the struggling girl. A thin, evil smile drew at his lips. His face, under its bronze of tan, burned with infernal exultation.
“Now, my beauty,” he mocked, “now I’ll attend to you!”
For a moment he eyed Kuala Pahang. Under the clear, morning light, she looked a strange and wild creature indeed—golden-yellow of tint, with tangled black hair, and the eyes of a trapped tigress. Bruises wealed her naked arms and shoulders, souvenirs of the captain’s club and fist. Her supple body was hardly concealed by her short skirt and by the tight Malay jacket binding her lithe waist and firm, young breast.
Briggs exulted over her, helpless and panting in the clutch of the two foremast-hands. “To the rail with her!” he ordered.
“What you goin’ to do, sir?” asked one of the men, staring. “Heave her over?”
Briggs menaced him with clenched fist.
“None o’ your damned business!” he shouted. “To the rail with her! Jump, afore I teach you how!”