“I’m not so sure of that,” replied Lark, as he proceeded to charge both barrels of his weapon. “Some of you must suffer before you board me, if you succeed in doing that little piece of business at all. I shan’t give you any quarter, as why should I? You wish to board my ship; I don’t wish you to do so. You insist, and I kill some of you men—that’s equal rights!”
“I’ll teach you equal rights with them cat-o’-nine-tails of mine,” thundered Briggs. “They were made for just such rascals as you are.”
“Ay, ay, excellent,” responded Lark. “I’ve been practicing with ’em, and I like ’em pretty well. Now, then, Driko,” he added, turning to that worthy, “let us see what stuff you are made of. Dart your iron, and pin Briggs.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the swarthy islander.
And, bending back, with his long, lithe figure stretched to its utmost tension, he lifted the barbed weapon, and directed the point toward the heart of the mate.
To say that the latter could stand unmoved before the point of this deadly instrument, directed by an arm and an eye so unerring as those of Driko, would be to declare that Briggs was more than human. He turned pale, and stood prepared to dodge the harpoon, when it should be thrown, and, viewing his emotion, the men relaxed their exertions a little, in order to turn their glances over their shoulders. Then the glimpses which they caught of the uplifted weapon, which the islander had not yet quite placed to his satisfaction, created considerable confusion.
The oars of two of the men “caught crabs,” and the rest fairly turned around upon their thwarts.
“What are you about, there?” yelled Mr. Spooner, with flashing eyes. “The harpoon isn’t pointed at you; it’s directed at Mr. Briggs!”
A fact which that worthy knew but too well, and which, when it was thus verbally expressed by his brother officer, did not inspire him with any very comfortable sensations. He was now “ducking” his head, and twisting himself about in a manner which would certainly have been deemed ludicrous under different circumstances.
“Whiz-z-z!” came the deadly weapon at last, and down went Briggs, with a suddenness that caused him to tumble over the after oarsman. He had dodged the iron in time, but it had passed close to his ear, just grazing it and severing one of his locks.