The revolver was discharged, the bullet burying itself in the floor. An instant later the weapon fell from his paralysed fingers. With his free left hand he struck wildly, frantically at Percival, but with no effect. The broad back and shoulders of his assailant proved a barrier he could not drive past. And that rigid, merciless right arm, as hard as a bar of steel, was pressing relentlessly against his throat, crushing, choking the life out of him. He was a strong, vigorous man, but he was helpless in the grasp of this tigerish young fighter from the slopes of the Andes. He heard Percival's voice, panting in his ear.
“I can keep this up longer than you can. I don't want to break your neck,—do you understand? I don't want to break your neck, Landover, but if you don't give in, I'll—I'll—” The pressure slackened perceptibly. “Say it! Now's your chance. Say you've—got enough!”
Landover managed to gasp out the word. He could still feel his eyes starting from his head, his tongue seemed to fill his mouth completely.
Percival released him instantly and fell back a yard or so, ready, however, to spring upon his man again at the first sign of treachery. No more than sixty seconds elapsed between the beginning and the end of the encounter. It was all over in the twinkling of an eye, so to speak. In fact, it was over so quickly that the first man to reach the door after the report of the revolver rang out, found the two men facing each other, one coughing and clutching at his throat, the other erect and menacing. For the first time, Percival took his eyes from the purplish face of the banker. They fell first upon a head and pair of shoulders that blocked one of the two port-holes. He recognized the countenance of Soapy Shay, the thief. To his amazement, Soapy grinned and then winked at him!
“The boat is ready to leave, Landover,” said the victor briskly. “We have no more use for this thing at present,” he went on, shoving the revolver under the berth with the toe of his boot. The banker stared past him at the agitated group in the corridor. The man was trembling like a leaf, not so much from fear as from the effects of the tremendous physical shock.
Percival was a generous foe. He experienced a sudden pity,—a rush of consideration for the other's feelings. He saw the tears of rage and mortification well up in the eyes of the banker, he heard the half-suppressed sob that broke from his lips. Whirling, he ordered the crowd away from the door. “It's all right,” he said. “Please leave us.” He addressed Soapy Shay. “Beat it, you!”
Soapy saluted with mock servility. “Aye, aye, sir. I saw the whole show. It was certainly worth the price of admission.” Having delivered himself of that graceful acknowledgment, he effaced himself.
“Just a word or two, Mr. Landover,” said Percival as the crowd shuffled away from the door. “I am sorry this had to happen. Even now I am not sure that you fully understand the situation. You may still be inclined to resist. You are not in the habit of submitting to force, reason or justice. I am only asking you, however, to recognize the last of these. You will be happier in the end. I don't give a hang how much you hate me, nor how far you may go to depose me. I don't want your friendship any more than I want your enmity. I can get along very nicely without either. But that isn't the point. At present I am in charge of a gang of workmen. Every man on this ship belongs to that gang, you with the rest. I ask you to look at the matter fairly, honestly, open-mindedly. You accuse me of being high-handed. I return the charge. It's you who are high-handed. You set yourself above your fellow-unfortunates. You refuse to abide by the will of the majority. I represent the majority. I am not acting for myself, but for them. God knows, I am not looking for trouble. This job isn't one that I would have chosen voluntarily. But now that it has been thrust upon me, I have no other alternative than to see it through. You ought to be man enough, you ought to be fair enough to see it in that light. If conditions were reversed, Mr. Landover, and you were in my place, I would be the last to oppose you, because I have learned in a very tough school that it pays to live up to the regulations. Everywhere else in the world it is a question of capital and labour. Here it is a question of labour alone. There is no such thing as capital. Socialism is forced upon us, the purest kind of socialism, for even the socialist can't get rich at the expense of his neighbour. But I'm beginning to lecture again. Let's get down to cases. Are you prepared to go out peaceably,—I'll not say willingly,—and do your share on the job as long as you are physically able?”
“I submit to brute force. There is no other course left open to me,” said Landover hoarsely.
“Very well, then. Come along,—we're wasting valuable time here.”