Kennedy was compelled to give way slightly, in the hope of relieving the pain in his breaking back. That was what Nick had been waiting for. Seizing the opening like lightning, his leg flew around to the position he had been seeking.
Now he knew he had his man under control.
Twisting with the suppleness and power of a boa constrictor, he ducked and heaved. As he did so, a gasp of involuntary admiration went up from the sailors.
There was no alternative for the first mate now but to yield or break in two.
The next instant he was sent flying over the detective’s head in a neat and scientific cross-buttock, landing upside down on the sand, where, with a groan, he lay without motion and “all in.�
Although Nick Carter was well breathed by his exertions, and gasped hard as he sought to recover himself, there was plenty of fight left in him.
The sailors came at him in a body.
With the fall of their leader, they seemed to emerge suddenly from the spell that had held them still. It seemed to Nick as if there were twenty flying fists in front of his face.
He recovered himself immediately, and, stirred to better efforts by the odds against him, he let drive scientifically and with deliberation, notwithstanding that he sent in his blows so swiftly.
One—two! One—two!