But there was no order or discipline among them. Shouting, gesticulating, they got in one another’s way in their struggle to reach the door, where Gollop coolly awaited their onset. His broad form blocked up the narrow entrance; the foreigners could attack only one at a time; and as they came on, one by one, each was put out of action by a sudden thrust or cut or lunge of the cutlass wielded by a master hand.
Martin glowed with admiration as he watched the swift movements of the big man. Planted firmly on his feet, his body scarcely swayed; but his sword-arm swept from side to side, and the furious yells of his opponents bespoke their sense of failure. Baffled, they fell back; they collected in a group to devise some plan whereby they might overcome this doughty defender of the door.
Suddenly there was a shout behind them.
“Ahoy! ahoy! Firk ’em! At ’em, my hearties!”
The startled group turned; there were a few moments of wild confusion. Martin, looking under Gollop’s arm, saw a welter of men, some bowled over like ninepins, others crawling away on hands and knees. The watermen, with George Hopton, taking their cue from the noises on deck, had swarmed up from the wherry and swept upon the foreigners from the rear. They burst through, irresistible; the crew scattered to right and left; and then Gollop issued forth from the doorway and joined his friends with a roar of welcome.
“Round ’em up! Round ’em up!” he cried, and striding ahead of his little party he chased the crew around the deck, across the waist, down the ladders, into every corner where they sought refuge. Bereft of their leaders they had no heart to fight. Within a very few minutes the foreigners had surrendered, and were herded into the forecastle.
A few minutes more, and the prisoners in the round-house were sitting in a disconsolate line against the wall, their hands and feet securely tied.
“A very pretty job,” said Gollop, looking approvingly at the watermen’s work. “I reckon they knots be firm enough, Mounseer; still, ’tis as well to make sure; so maybe you’ll stand over ’em with that steel of yours while we go and see what’s in them brass-bound boxes.”
The Frenchman smiled, and held his rapier at the salute.