Martin stared closely. The newcomers did not appear to carry their arms with them; the sunlight gleamed on but three rifles, the one carried by the fore-hatch guard, and the two weapons in the possession of the men lounging abaft the house, amidships. All of the Japs, save only the guard at the fore hatch, lounged over to the rail and watched their compatriots aft prepare the dingey. They were evidently more interested in this work, and in the aspect of the beach, than in the meal that Yip was now spreading for them on the deck abaft the house.
Presently, Carew was visible again—on the main deck, this time, at the rail. And—Martin's heart leaped into his throat—Ruth was with him. Ruth, cloaked and bowed, stood submissively by Carew's side.
Carew noticed his men lounging forward, gaping at him. He evidently disliked the sight, or perhaps, some word of theirs' about the girl reached his ears—he flung an order to Asoki, and the latter chattered angrily at the loafers. They left the rail precipitantly, and clustered about the mess kits Yip had just finished placing on the deck. The Chinaman, Martin noticed, retreated immediately into the galley; and, a second later, reappeared on the other side of the deck. He peeked around the side of the house at the diners; then he strolled forward.
Carew was already in the dingey, and Ruth was being helped to the rail by the Jap mate. The sailor was in the dingey, too, seated at oars, ready to give way. Martin had the thought: "There is now no guard in the cabin, and if Captain Dabney really has his sight—" But he did not pursue the speculation. He was thinking of Ruth, watching her descend the Jacob's ladder into Carew's waiting arms. He forgot to watch Yip. He forgot everything save Ruth, and the hated hands that fastened upon her waist and lifted her into the boat.
Grim-faced, savage-eyed, Martin stared down at the little boat; watched Carew seat Ruth beside him in the sternsheets; watched the sailor bend to the oars as Asoki cast off the painter. And Martin's mood was exultant as he watched. Carew was coming! Now he was going to square accounts with the renegade beast! Now he was going to wipe the smirk from those cruel lips! That sneering mouth would never again babble the brute's unclean love into her unwilling ears, by heaven, no!
It was a gasp from Ichi, and a stuttering exclamation from Little Billy, that brought his mind—and eyes—to the ship again. Something was happening amid the group of eaters. One of them was rolling on the deck, another was staggering about, consternation reigned over the rest, and their cries of surprise and fear were audible in the cave. Asoki was running toward the scene.
"The hatch! Yip!" cried Little Billy.
A blood-curdling whoop rode the air. Yip's whoop. The Chinaman was dancing on the deck, away forward by the foc'sle scuttle, brandishing something over his head. More than that, Martin saw—the fore hatch was open. Other figures appeared by Yip's side. The gigantic figure of the bosun appeared around the forward corner of the house, and he was rushing aft.
He—and his followers—almost reached the after end of the house before the rattled Japs spied them. Then was pandemonium. One of the armed Japs shot point blank at the bosun. He missed the mark at which he aimed, though a man behind the bosun fell; but the bosun, before his enemy could fire again, leaned over and scooped into his arms the figure that had been writhing on the deck, and, half straightening, hurled it at the man with the gun. The body hurtled true to its mark—both target and missile went scooting across the deck, to fetch up motionless in the scuppers. Then the bosun had the rifle and was swinging it, clubbed, the center of a mêlée.
Carew's voice, roaring at Asoki, brought Martin's gaze down to the small boat. It had made some hundred yards towards shore when the shot was fired at the bosun—the first inkling Carew had, it seemed, that his conquest of the ship was in jeopardy. He was standing up in the boat, trying to get a glimpse of the deck of the ship, and calling to know what was wrong. The man at the oars was backing water, holding the boat motionless; but as the sounds of general conflict came to the captain's ears, he evidently gave the sailor instructions, for the boat began to swing back to the brig.