The moment after they were gone I threw my weight and growing strength away from the upright to which I was bound. It creaked and groaned. I tried again, and still again. At the third attempt, the entire fixtures fell on top of me to the floor.
I struggled clear of the débris, and the rest was easy. I slipped the ropes from the wooden post and, in their now loosened condition, I wriggled free.
I did not wait to do anything for Jake, nor yet to consider any plan of operation. My blood was up and that was all I knew.
I picked my axe-handle from the floor and dashed out after the robbers.
The five men were with the boat at the water's edge. Two were sitting at the oars in readiness, two were on the beach raising Jake's trunk to the fifth man who was standing in the stern of the boat.
I sprang upon them. I hit one, with a sickening crash, over the head. He let go his hold of the trunk and toppled limply against the side of the boat, as the trunk splashed into the shallow water.
I staggered with the impetus, and from the impact of my blow let my club drop from my jarred hand. Before I could recover, the big man,—who had been helping to raise the trunk,—bore down on me. He caught me by the throat in a horrible grip, and tried to press me backward; but, with a short-arm blow, I smashed him over the mouth with telling force, cutting my knuckles in a splutter of blood and broken teeth.
His grip loosened. He shouted to his fellows for assistance as he sprang at me once more.
But, somewhere in the darkness behind me, a pistol-shot rang out and the big man staggered, letting out a howl of pain, as his arm dropped limp to his side.
He darted for the boat and threw himself into it, seized a spare oar and pushed off frantically.