“Stop where you are. It’s nothing,” replied Jack, gritting his teeth nevertheless as his leg began to throb. The boat-hook was but an indifferent weapon against men with loaded revolvers, but it seemed to Jack that the enemy would have only a few shots left, if any. The sloop and the schooner, moreover, were now approaching each other rapidly. The fishing-vessel had gone about, and her present course was taking her almost straight toward the Sea-Lark. Another minute or so would bring the vessels within speaking distance. Rod was already signaling as best he could.
Below deck, the prisoners were again assailing the door, and blows fell with telling effect against the weakening lock. With poised boat-hook, Jack watched and waited. Suddenly, with a crash, the doors flew open and Hegan, his face contorted with rage, leaped up the steps.
“Drop that boat-hook!” he commanded savagely, his revolver pointing at Jack’s breast. Behind him, Martin peered across his shoulder, his features set in a malicious grin.
Jack, backing away, pointed to the schooner. [“You’re too late, Hegan,” he said.]
[“You’re too late, Hegan,” he said]
Hegan shot a quick glance over the water and then, with a snarl of rage, hurled his revolver straight at the boy’s face. Jack ducked, but not in time to escape a glancing blow on the top of the head, which sent him reeling back. Seizing his advantage, Hegan leaped forward, but Rodney with a final hail to the schooner, now close at hand, left the wheel and hurled himself on top of Hegan. His weight bore the man down, and Jack, recovering, steadied himself to meet a new onslaught which came from Martin. Clutching the barrel of his empty weapon, Martin aimed a blow, but Jack was before him and brought the boat-hook crashing down on the man’s arm. The revolver dropped to the floor of the cockpit just as a deep voice came from the deck of the fishing-craft.
“Hello, there! Hello, there! What’s all this about?” It was Bob Sennet who spoke, and with flopping sails the Ellen E. Hanks nosed alongside the Sea-Lark, and the skipper, his huge hands bunched formidably, leaped to the deck of the sloop.
“You’re just in time, Captain,” growled Hegan. “These young ruffians were nearly killing the pair of us.”
Bob Sennet’s eyes fell on the dark mark on Jack’s trousers, which were already badly stained from his wound. From there his gaze traveled to the revolver at Martin’s feet. Jack, now that the worst of the excitement was over, was feeling curiously weak. He sank down on the cockpit seat, and hoped fervently that he was not going to do anything so foolish as faint. It was as though a red-hot iron was being bored into his leg, and he felt absurdly dizzy.