“Yes,” remarked Will, “he can’t climb the rocks with that arm; and now that he can’t fire that clumsy weapon of his, he’s no longer dangerous. We’ll just take him prisoner!”
Meanwhile the Dido was dashing straight on to the Point, trusting to Providence that she would strike a soft spot. But with Gandy disabled there was no need of this desperate haste, so Reube steered for a place where he knew there was neither reef nor honey pot, but a slope of firm sand. He was too much occupied in the delicate task of making a safe landing for the Dido to observe what Gandy was doing. But Will watched the actions of the latter, with a cold smile on his finely cut mouth.
“He is a coward, every time, when it comes to the pinch!” was his remark. “See him now, too scared to meet us like a man, and struggling like a whipped cur to climb those rocks and get away! He can’t do it, though!”
Indeed, Mart Gandy at this moment realized the fact which gave Will such satisfaction. With his right arm broken, he could not make his way to the top of the bluff. Like a hunted animal, he turned and glared with eyes of hate and fear upon his adversaries. Again he looked at the rocks, turning his head quickly from side to side. And then, with a shrill, fierce cry, he darted out straight across the flats toward the head of the cove.
“He’ll get away after all,” remarked Reube.
“Get away, indeed!” muttered Will. “It’s in the very thick of the honey pots he’ll be in less than half a minute, or I’m much mistaken. There!”
As he spoke, Gandy was seen to throw himself violently backward. It was just in time. As he tore himself by a mighty wrench from the engulfing slime he struggled to his feet, swerved to one side, and ran on.
Reube drew a long breath of relief; and Will said, dispassionately:
“That was well done. It was sharp.”
Just then the Dido ran up on the sand, and stopped with a shock that would have pitched Will overboard if he had not grasped the mast.