Hilary’s captor rose, and a couple of men caught him by the arms, jerked him up and held him, dragging back his arms, which Allstone came forward to bind; but seeing the young man helpless before him, he could not resist the temptation offered to him.
“I’m an idiot, am I?” he shouted. “How do you like that for an idiot’s touch?”
He struck Hilary a brutal back-handed blow across the face as he spoke, and then went backwards into the gully with a crash. For, his hands being secured, the young officer felt no compunction, under the circumstances, in making use of his foot, and with it he gave the bully so tremendous a kick in the chest that he went down breathless; and, wrenching his arms free, Hilary made a dash for liberty, but his former captor seized him as he passed.
“No, my lad, it won’t do,” he exclaimed. “It was too much trouble to catch you, so we’ll keep you now.”
Allstone struggled up, but Hilary’s captor interfered as he was about to strike at him with his doubled fist.
“No, no, Master Allstone,” he said sharply, “I’m sure the skipper and Sir Henry wouldn’t let you do that.”
“You stand aside,” roared Allstone. “Who told you to interfere?”
“No one,” said the man coolly; “but I shall interfere, and if you touch that lad again it’ll be through me.”
“Do you hear this, lads?” cried Allstone. “He’s breaking his oaths. Come on my side and we’ll deal with him too.”
“This young fellow was about right when he called you an idiot, Jemmy Allstone,” said the man quietly.