The detective and Kennedy came together with a crash. Outlaws as they were, the sailors of the piratical yacht out there in the bay were inclined to let the duel between the two giants go on till one or the other had gained a victory.
The seamen enjoyed a good fight, whether they were in it personally or not.
This was a good thing for the detective now. He was[Pg 33] perfectly aware that, if he won, they might get a chance to close in and overpower him. But, even with that, he would make a dash for freedom, to come back with reënforcements later.
Letting his pistol fall to the sand, Nick went for his tall foe with his bare fists. Kennedy, being on the defensive, parried the detective’s straight lunge, and got a knee lock on his adversary.
Nick, carried into close quarters as his opponent met his rush, started a long, slow, heartbreaking twist which was almost as grueling on himself as on Kennedy.
The latter was in good condition physically—hard as nails and full of aggressiveness. If he had been weaker than Nick Carter, the detective could not have made such progress with his mode of attack. Carter’s supple form bent to every turn, and though Kennedy tried to crush him by main strength, his adversary could laugh at all his efforts.
Then Nick took a new line—or, rather, an amplification of his first method of attack.
Slowly he threw his powerful leg outward and twined it around that of the panting first mate.
Kennedy fought hard to keep out of this lock. But he could not help himself. The hold the detective had on him was almost breaking his back, and he knew that if he relaxed for the slightest fraction of a moment, the awful pressure of Nick Carter’s steellike arms would crumple him up like a dried leaf in a hurricane.
The crucial moment came.