I had thrown one leg over the guard rail. The man was a yard away, a revolver pointed at my chest.
“’S all right, Joe.” From below the quick-witted Freddy sent up a reassuring growl. “’S all right; let ’im go.”
“Hah?” The seaman, startled, bent forward to look, and I leaped, sinking both hands into his throat and bearing him to the rail.
In the same second Pierce seemed to be on the rail. His rifle rose over his head and came down on my man’s arm, knocking the revolver from his hand.
“The gun—the gun! Get his gat’!” whispered Freddy.
I had it even as he spoke, and with a weapon in each hand I ran aft, madly, unthinkingly, wishful only to follow whither Captain Brack had gone. Riordan was the first man I met, and as he retreated at the sight of me and tugged at his hip pocket, I struck at him, saw him fall, and went on with scarcely a pause.
I heard Freddy pounding at George’s stateroom, but I ran past. Garvin leaped at me from aft the main cabin. I fired twice at his right arm and heard his weapon clatter on the deck.
On the after-deck Barry caught me about the hips and threw me down, the violence of the fall throwing my weapons from my hands. I was beneath him and the man was trying to stab me as I hugged him tight to my breast. I felt the knife enter my thigh. Barry was the stronger, and I cried out a curse of despair.
“Hang tough for a jiffy, sir,” came Wilson’s calm voice from a companionway. He, too, was fighting. I heard the sound of two bodies falling. “Hang tough!”
I put all my strength into a paroxysm of pressure, but Barry managed to cut me once more ere Wilson, hobbling on one leg, came to my relief.