“I’ll come later,” I answered. “Some one must hold the stair. Hurry while there’s time.”
Then I mounted the companion, followed by Gull, and came out into the last fight on the quarter-deck.
CHAPTER XXXV.
OUR LAST CHANCE
The big Welshman, Jones, had just swung into the press about him as we came up, and Hawkson had a breathing spell for a few moments. The old privateersman saw me behind him in the doorway, and the ghost of his old smile wrinkled the corners of his ugly mouth. He was covered with blood, and growing weak from exertion, but he held out a long, sinewy hand, and I grasped it. He said nothing, but looked at the surging crowd that was pressing closer and closer against the struggling Welshman and Howard. Henry clung to the companion coaming with one hand, and closed the gap between them. The black mass swung back toward us, and instantly we were fighting desperately to hold them in check.
A pile of black bodies in front impeded their movement, but they pressed us so close that we were jammed shoulder to shoulder, with Jones slightly in advance to the right, and the old captain in front. Gull ducked below my arm, and stabbed viciously upward at the Africans who came on.
There had been a short pause, caused by Jones’s fierce fight, but, as he gradually slackened his efforts, and the men behind pressed forward, the gap began closing up. It would soon be over.
A huge black fellow reached out and grasped Captain Howard. The old pirate ran him through the body with marvellous quickness, but, before he could disengage his weapon, several more seized him and jerked him away from us. He disappeared in the blackness, and we saw him no more. He had gone to his account without a word, fighting desperately to the last, and with him went the last hope we had left.
Hawkson was tiring. A couple of men seized me and started to drag me out, but the old privateersman made a last desperate rally, and I tore myself free from dying clutches. But the fight could not last for ever. A black giant, who wore a gee-string, smote Hawkson’s blade a terrific blow with a windlass-brake, knocking it out of his hand. Instantly several seized him, and, though I cut and stabbed frantically, they managed to pull him away, to be served as had been the others who had fallen into their hands.
Suddenly, while I cut wildly at the forms in front, some one pulled me backwards. I expected to find myself in the hands of the black tigers, thirsting for blood and revenge, and was about to make one last sweep, but my arm was seized, and I was pulled down the companionway, while Jones slammed the doors together and bolted them. The big sailor and myself were all the men left on deck of our after-guard, and he had pulled me back just in time. The door would stand a few minutes against the assault. Gull and Henry had both gone, the little ferret-faced fellow fastening his great fingers firmly in the throat of a man who drew him to his death. There was now no hope but to delay the inevitable for as many minutes as possible.
Jones and I had a short breathing spell, while bars and handspikes crashed through the heavy door panels. We took down several of the muskets from the racks, and, placing their muzzles against the rents in the wood, fired them one after the other, with the result of abating the zeal of the fellows who stood close against the other side. The room filled with the dense powder smoke, and the light from the swinging cabin lamps barely lit up the gloom enough to distinguish objects. Ernest, who had been left half-dead upon the cabin floor, now aroused himself enough to stagger to his feet.