He saw that they were wavering, and that unless something was done quickly to bring them up, they might actually yield themselves to these two men who were holding them down with as much confidence as if they had been a dozen.
“Remember mademoiselle!�
Kennedy yelled this slogan with the suddenness of a rifle shot.
The effect was remarkable. On the instant, the whole seven leaped toward the detective and Mike Corrigan.
As they did so, the two automatic pistols barked once—twice—almost together.
The two men aimed at by Nick Carter both dropped.
If Mike Corrigan’s aim had been as good as the detective’s, they might have won. But the porter’s hand was shaky, and both of his bullets missed. He managed to shoot them at a rock some distance away, where they flattened and fell into the sand.
“Fire, men!� shouted Kennedy.
But Carter was not waiting for a bullet from the other side. For the third time he pulled his trigger. Then, taking his gun by the barrel, he used the heavy stock for a club and sprang at Kennedy, just as a shot came from the enemy and Mike Corrigan sank to the ground with a groan of agony.
The sailors might have fired again, only that they were afraid of attracting attention by the reports. Besides, seeing that Nick Carter had flung himself upon the first mate, they were for a moment uncertain what to do.