It was broad daylight, but we seemed to be quite alone, and I was being forced back over a man’s knee, when I was jerked up again, and the man who was holding me went backwards, while a familiar voice said—
“Hullo, boys; seem to be enjoying yourselves.”
“Mr Gunson, help!” I cried, as I recognised our shipboard companion; “these men—”
“I see, my lad, steady. Ah, would you!” For a quick look had passed among the men, and they were about to make a rush, when Gimson stepped back and whipped out a revolver.
“Don’t come too near, boys,” he said. “I’m rather a good shot.”
The men stopped short at the sight of the revolver barrel covering first one and then another. But the first man said “Come on!” with quite a snarl, drew a knife, and flung himself at Gunson.
I felt a horrible sensation run through me as I listened for the report; but instead of firing, Gunson struck up with his revolver, and the man went over sidewise, while our friend now fired over the heads of the others of the gang.
This stopped them for the moment, but as they saw that no one fell, they came on again, and one of them seized Gunson before he could fire, or before he attempted to fire, for, as he told me afterwards, he did not want to feel that he had killed a man.
In the struggle which followed I saw the pistol drop from our defender’s hand, and one of the men stooped to pick it up, but Esau was too quick for him. Making quite a leap, as if playing leap-frog, he pitched with his hands right on the man’s shoulders, sending him over and over, but falling himself, while I picked up the pistol and drew the trigger.
The sharp report made my ears ring, and I stood back now with the weapon presented, expecting some of the others to rush at me. But the two reports had spread the alarm, and a couple of the officials came running up, whilst our assailants took to flight, giving Gunson an opportunity to rise and shake himself.