The lawyer picked the drugged boy up and hastened over the muddy street with him toward a big whaling ship lying at one of the docks.
In the meantime the three sailors surrounded the newcomer.
He proved to be a dashing-looking young man, with a dark mustache, a symmetrical and athletic figure, and an intellectual face.
He had been behind the lawyer and the boy when they left the depot, and seeing the assault and Milburn’s indifference, he correctly concluded that the boy had been led into a trap.
“You scoundrels!” he panted: “what are you doing to that boy?”
“Keep away thar!” roared the captain, threateningly. “Mind yer own business and clear out of this.”
“Never, until that boy is released!”
“Go fer ther meddler, my lads!”
As the three seamen closed in on him, the stranger doubled up his fist and struck out straight from the shoulder.
Biff! Bang! Thump! went his fists like pile drivers, and every time they struck a man went down.