“I may as well knock under,” I said to myself, and I was about to give up, meaning first to give ’em one more round, when I stumbled. Twice over I had felt my bare feet, slip upon the deck, in what seemed blood, and had shuddered as I thought of how I should leave my footmarks all over the clean white boards; but this time I stumbled over what seemed to be a body, and should have fallen, if I had not gathered up my strength for a jump, and thrown myself forward, when, as if in one and the same moment, there was a crash as of breaking glass, a heavy fall, and then a foot was upon my throat, and a pistol held to my head.
Story 2--Chapter VII.
I was that shaken and confused by my fall, that for a moment I could not speak, and when I could say a few words, I did not know who I was speaking to, expecting that it was Van, till a voice I seemed to know whispered: “If you attempt to move, I fire.”
“I ain’t going to move, Mr Ward,” I says at last: “it’s been too hard work to get here; but if you’ll pynt your pistol up at the skylight, it’ll be better, or some one else will be tumbling down after me. Only wish Sam Brown would.”
“Pitched me down more’n half a hour ago,” growled a voice I knew.
“What’s come of Bill Smith?” I says.
“Lyin’ on the deck with his head split,” says Sam, “if they ain’t pitched him overboard.”
Then I heard a whispering consultation going on, which seemed to be about whether I was to be trusted, when Mr Ward seemed to be taking my part, and then the skipper whispers to me: “If you’ll be faithful to us, Roberts, you shall be well rewarded; but if you play fast and loose, mind, we are well armed, and there will be no mercy for you.”
“Who’s playing fast and loose?” I says gruffly as old Sam. “Ain’t I been cut at, and shot at, and then pitched neck and crop through the cabin skylight! If that’s your fast and loose, give me slow and tight for a game,” I says; “but mind you, it’s my opinion that there’s something else to do but play, for them beggars mean mischief.”