The latter remarks were addressed to Heavitree, who having placed Molly out of harm’s way had come out of the saloon to “join in the argument,” as he expressed it. Far from complying with the convict’s demands he went to stand beside Craddock and unobtrusively unshipped a heavy belaying-pin. “Get out of it!” repeated the convict. Heavitree raising his arm resolutely remained where he was. Craddock gave one glance in the direction of the Merlin. No one was to be seen on her deck. More than likely her two ship-keepers were amusing themselves below. In any case, there was not much likelihood of help in that direction. The two Sea Scouts on the Cornish yacht were without a dinghy, and being further out in the tideway, they would run a serious risk of being carried away if they attempted to swim to the aid of their brother-Scouts on the Kestrel. If Peter and Heavitree were to “win through,” they would evidently have to do so on their own merits.
Realising this, Craddock picked up the boat-hook which was lying on the waterways by the side of the cockpit coaming. It was a formidable weapon, consisting of about eight feet of stout ash pole terminating in a combined point and hook of galvanised iron.
Armed resistance was one of the last things the miscreant had counted upon. He had staked his chances upon the likelihood of being able to overawe a couple of lads, but he had failed to estimate correctly the physical and moral fibre of the average Sea Scout. As a general rule, the burglar who employs brute force when dealing with a weak and terrified householder is an arrant coward, easily terrified when threatened with corporal punishment. When he finds that “the game is up,” he will refrain from violence because he knows that on conviction his sentence will be far heavier than if he had contented himself solely with ordinary house-breaking. On the other hand, if he thinks he can get clear he will not hesitate to stun or wound the person who attempts his capture.
The convict hesitated. He did not like the look of the business end of the boat-hook, the staff of which was held in a pair of firm, steady hands. Nor did he relish the probability of a crack across the head from the serviceable lump of iron which Heavitree gripped in readiness.
“Be reasonable, chums!” he whined. “ ’Ere’s a pore bloke wrongfully convicted who’s got a chance to get clear. Be sports an’ give him a ’elping ’and.”
“We will,” agreed Peter grimly. “We’ll give the police a helping hand, so you’d better surrender and give no further trouble.”
“S’pose I’d better,” rejoined the convict sullenly. “I sees myself back in quod, ’cause ’ere come your pals in their boat.”
Instinctively the two Sea Scouts turned their heads to follow the direction of the crafty rogue’s glance. It was exactly what the convict hoped they would do.
In a trice he leapt across the cabin-top. Before Peter could recover his guard the fellow was within the wavering point of the boat-hook. The next instant he grasped Heavitree’s right wrist, rendering the belaying-pin useless as a weapon either of defence or offence.
But there was one thing he forgot. Accustomed to having a dry and comparatively unyielding solid ground, he was quite unused to the motion of a vessel. Even a forty-foot yacht responds perceptibly to the weight of a person moving on deck. In his wild onslaught he lost his balance. His bare feet slipped on the wet painted canvas of the cabin-top. He fell heavily, bringing Heavitree down with him.