He saw at once what they meant to do, and, springing back, seized a handspike.
“Lay that down and surrender, else I’ll blow out yer brains,” said one of the two, levelling his pistol.
Instead of obeying, the captain raised the heavy handspike, and the man pulled the trigger. At the same instant Gaff struck up the muzzle with his hand; the ball passed over the captain’s head, and the handspike descended on the seaman’s crown felling him at once.
Upon this the entire crew made a rush and overpowered Gaff and the captain. The latter, who struggled with the fury of a tiger, was kicked while down until he was nearly dead. Gaff at once gave in, knowing that any attempt at further resistance, besides being hopeless, would only render matters worse. He was therefore allowed to rise, and his hands were tied behind his back.
The captain, being similarly secured, was raised to his feet.
“Now, you tyrant,” said the ringleader of the crew with a terrible oath, “how would you like to have your throat cut?”
The man slowly opened a long clasp-knife as he spoke, and felt its keen edge with his thumb. Blood was flowing down his face and breast from the wound inflicted by the handspike, and the fiendish expression of his countenance, added to the terribleness of his aspect, while it showed that his sarcastic question would certainly be followed by the murderous deed. But the other mutineers restrained him.
“It’s too good for him, make him walk the plank and drown like a dog—as he is,” cried one.
“Hang him up to the yard-arm,” said another.
Several voices here expressed dissent, and an elderly seaman stepped forward and said that they didn’t intend to become pirates, so they had better not begin with murder.