“Oh, you’ll hit me from behind,” he howled, believing Red responsible for the blow. He leaped at the young fellow and immediately the pair were in the throes of such a violent conflict that it did not seem possible that either of them could come out alive. They crashed in first one corner then the other with lightning speed, and as Roberta heard and caught glimpses of the horrible spectacle she was nearly overcome with nausea. She thought that any moment the built-in bed would be ripped from the wall to which it was fastened and she wondered dully why none of the crew interfered. Then she found herself trying to calculate just how long it would be before the courageous little Red would be reduced to an unrecognizable mass of flesh.
It occurred to the girl Sky-pilot that it was because of her presence that Red had so strenuously objected to the captain’s entering the dugout, and thinking back, she believed that Nomie must have sighted the boat on the water. That would explain her reason for wanting the white girl out of sight when the small boat came ashore with the men whose rough temper was well known to her. By that time the two bodies crashed against the foot of the bed and a huge hand clutched the pillows to keep him from falling, but Cap’s foot slipped on the wet floor. He flung himself up with all his strength, clutched at the upright support, but under his weight the sapling gave way, the corner of the bed came down with its pile of protecting pillows cascading into the room. Quick as a flash, Roberta rolled to the further side, but the tumbling piece of furniture prevented her from keeping out of sight, so she was forced to get to her feet close to the wall, what was left of the bed—rolling in front of her. Just as Cap raised his ugly head and caught sight of her terrified white face, the huge form of Wat rushed in and hurled forward, the man’s legs whipped about the captain’s body like a powerful vise, one hand snatched back the fur hat while the other brought the butt end of a gun down on the man’s head so hard that he was immediately knocked unconscious. During the last part of the fight, the curious crew had crowded into the room, and now Wat turned on them. Beyond the door, Roberta caught a glimpse of Slim and other familiar faces, set grimly, while the barrel of more than one gun was in evidence.
“What are you fellows doing here?” he demanded sharply.
“Cap ordered us to bring him over,” the nearest boatman replied.
“We gotta obey the captain’s orders on a boat or it’s mutiny,” another took up defiantly.
“Yes?”
“Yes.” This came from several voices.
“Well, let me tell you something. There isn’t a man jack of you who does not know perfectly well that the captain’s jurisdiction is a very limited one. Your boat was posted with orders every one of you could read, and you were told to remain aboard until I sent for you, or gave you sailing orders. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes,” one of the men at the back admitted reluctantly.
“Slim!” called Wat.