But there were others of the enemy watching the encounter—one who had previously reached the chamber, and another who had suddenly drawn himself up and sprung over the sill.
This fellow drew back for a few moments to watch the struggle and await his opportunity, before, heavy machete in hand, he sprang forward, to make a savage cut that would have gone hard with Tom May, but Murray saw the impending stroke, parried it with the cutlass he held, and then struck upward with the hilt, catching the assailant full in the nose with the heavy steel guard, staggering him for a moment, and then thrusting home, the man went down, just in time for May’s antagonist to trip over backward, the two fellows yelling as they rolled over and over.
“Come on, messmates,” growled Tom May; and there was a short continuation of the struggle before one after the other the enemy were driven headlong from the window and the room was clear.
“Thankye, Mr Murray, sir,” said the big sailor, taking the cutlass from between his teeth. “You did that fine; didn’t he, lads?”
“Splendid!” said the boatswain; “but what’s the good of a cutlass, mate, if you don’t use it?”
“Hah! That’s just what I was thinking of,” said the big sailor. “I just stuck it atween my tusks so as to tackle that ugly warmint, as I thought it would be easier to chuck overboard, and then you see I was too busy to ketch hold again. But it do seem comic, Mr Murray, sir, don’t it? But it have kep’ it clean.”
“Yes, Tom; and you cleared the deck magnificently.”
“Did I, sir? Well, I’m glad I do’d some good; and fingers was made afore forks, warn’t they, sir? And pretty handy too.”
“Yes, I suppose so, Tom; but look here, my lads,” cried Murray sharply. “Lay hold of that big old bedstead and draw it across the window. It will block it up. Then clap that big wardrobe on the top.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” cried the men, as they seized the heavy framework and ran it across the opening, fastening it directly after in its place by laying the heavy wardrobe across.